OLD  MAID'5 
VENGEANCE 

FRANCES  POWELL 


BOOKS  BY  FRANCES  POWELL 
PUBLISHED   BY   CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

An  Old  Maid's  Vengeance net  SI. 25 

(Postage  extra) 

Old  Mr.  Davenant's  Money 91.50 

The  Prisoner  of  Ornith  Farm $1.50 

The  By-Ways  of  Braithe $1.50 

The  House  on  the  Hudson $1.50 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


BY 

FRANCES  POWELL 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1911 


COPYRIGHT,  1911,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  March,  1911 


tlo 

EDITH   OPDYCKE 

THIS    ROMANCE    IS    AFFECTIONATELY    DEDICATED 

IN  GRATEFUL  REMEMBRANCE  OF  CONSTANT 

ENCOURAGEMENT,  SYMPATHY,  AND 

UNFAILING   FRIENDSHIP. 


2131910 


AN  OLD  MAID'S 
VENGEANCE 


i 

"...  Marriage-making  for  the  earth, 
With  gold  so  much,  ..." 

"TT^ES,  I  believe  in  the  French  marriage  system/' 
-L  said  Mrs.  Bertram,  delicately  smoothing 
with  a  daintily  gloved  forefinger  a  package  that 
lay  upon  her  lap.  "  I  believe  that  every  girl  should 
have  her  dowry,  and  that  a  match  should  be  ar- 
ranged for  her  by  her  parents  according  to  its 
size.  A  rich  girl  has  a  right  to  expect  to  marry 
better  than  a  poor  one,  just  as  wealthy  parents 
have  a  right  to  expect  their  son  to  add  to,  instead 
of  diminishing,  the  credit  of  the  family." 

As  Mrs.  Bertram  finished  speaking  she  glanced 
with  covert  sharpness  at  her  listener,  her  daughter- 
in-law  elect,  Elinor  Ladoon.  The  girl  looked 
very  weary,  and  she  leaned  back  in  the  big,  old- 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


fashioned  arm-chair,  her  eyes  downcast,  as  if  she 
might  not  have  paid  strict  attention  to  Mrs.  Ber- 
tram's just  formulated  creed. 

"I  feel  sure  that  you  will  agree  with  me,  my 
dear  Nelly/'  Mrs.  Bertram  continued.  "I  have 
always  believed  in  your  good  judgment.  I  know 
that  you  would  condemn  the  marriage  of  penni- 
less young  people.  To  speak  vulgarly,  'men  are 
scarce  and  women  are  plenty,'  and  why  should  a 
young  man — rich,  or  in  moderate  circumstances — 
burden  himself  with  a  poor  wife  ? " 

Again  Mrs.  Bertram  shot  a  swift  side  glance  at 
the  girl.  One  never  could  tell,  she  reflected  un- 
easily, of  what  Elinor  was  thinking,  or  what  she 
might  do  or  say  next.  But  the  girl  did  not  speak. 
Mrs.  Bertram  once  more  smoothed  with  affection- 
ate care  the  package  upon  her  knee,  and  resumed 
her  subject. 

"Mr.  Bertram  feels  as  I  do  about  marriage. 
Mr.  Bertram  has  always  been  most  indulgent  to 
Maynard.  I  suppose  it's  natural  to  spoil  an  only 
child.  You  know  how  large  Boy's  allowance  is! 
But  if  Maynard  were  to  marry  against  his  father's 
wishes,  the  allowance  would  instantly  cease;  yes, 
instantly" 

The  girl  in  the  arm-chair  lifted  her  eyes  and 
looked  with  wondering  interest  at  her  visitor. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Her  eyes  were  remarkably  fine;  very  large,  very 
deep  blue  in  color,  and  shaded  with  intensely 
black  lashes.  Her  eyebrows  were  as  dark  as  the 
lashes,  level,  and  beautifully  marked.  They 
looked  the  darker,  perhaps,  because  of  the  purity 
of  her  complexion.  She  had  little  color  save  in 
her  lips,  but  her  clear  paleness  was  of  the  healthy 
sort,  the  cool  pallor  that  sometimes  accompanies 
a  perfect  physique.  Her  dark  hair  made  a  dusky 
frame  for  her  handsome  face,  handsome  more 
through  its  expression  of  high  intelligence  than 
from  any  great  beauty  of  feature;  for  her  mouth, 
though  not  over  large,  was  no  cupid's-bow  in  out- 
line, and  her  nose  refused  to  be  classic,  or  class- 
ified. 

But  if  her  face  were  not  perfect,  the  most  hy- 
percritical could  have  found  no  fault  with  her 
figure,  or  with  the  beauty  of  her  hands  and  feet. 
She  was  of  medium  height,  lithe,  graceful,  and 
with  muscles  of  steel.  Her  uncle,  James  Ladoon, 
had  brought  her  up,  and  had  seen  to  it  that  her 
education  in  what  is  termed  "sport,"  should  be  a 
finished  one.  Fortunately  the  girl  possessed  a 
pretty  taste  for  book  lore  as  well,  and  she  had 
read  and  studied  much,  although  in  a  random, 
unguided  fashion;  following  her  own  bent,  in- 
stead of  asking  cut-and-dried  counsel.  One  great 

[3] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


gift  was  hers;  she  was  a  born  musician,  and  al- 
though, unfortunately,  the  piano  had  been  the 
instrument  given  her,  she  possessed  the  power  of 
awakening  a  soul  within  it.  Its  voice  became  hu- 
man under  the  magic  of  her  beautiful  fingers,  and 
it  sang  the  great  song  of  Life — with  its  varying 
passions — almost  as  though  it  were  twin  to  the 
violin. 

To  Mrs.  Bertram,  however,  Elinor  had  never 
possessed  any  charm  worthy  of  mention  save 
one,  she  was  to  be  her  uncle's  heiress.  For  this 
reason  Maynard's  mother  had  gladly  welcomed 
the  girl  as  her  son's  fiancee,  and  had  been  disap- 
pointed when  Elinor  insisted  upon  the  engagement 
being  kept  secret  for  a  time.  But  during  the  past 
three  weeks  Mrs.  Bertram  had  been  thankful  for 
the  secrecy  observed,  for  disquieting  rumors  were 
abroad  in  regard  to  "Jim"  Ladoon, — and  now 
the  lightning  had  struck. 

Mr.  Ladoon  had  been  taken  ill  the  morning 
before  Mrs.  Bertram's  call,  and  he  was  not  ex- 
pected to  live.  Every  one,  save  his  orphaned  niece, 
knew  what  had  caused  the  breakdown.  She, 
alone,  was  ignorant  that  she  was  an  heiress  no 
longer.  She  wondered  why  Maynard,  who  had 
gone  to  New  York  on  the  morning  of  her  uncle's 
illness,  had  not  returned  the  same  evening.  She 

[4] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


thought  that  he  was  still  ignorant  of  her  trouble, 
but  she  had  expected  he  would  come  rushing  over 
to  her  in  his  auto  the  moment  he  reached  home. 
Mrs.  Bertram  had  suavely  explained  this  absence. 
He  had  been  detained  on  business,  and  she  had 
thought  it  best  to  send  no  telegram. 

In  answer  to  Mrs.  Bertram's  remarks  about 
marriage,  Elinor  now  asked  a  question  which 
showed  that  the  efforts  made  to  prepare  her  mind 
had  been  thrown  away.  That  she  had  failed  to 
notice  the  drift  of  these  remarks  was  evident. 

"Maynard  will  surely  be  home  to-night,  Mrs. 
Bertram?" 

Mrs.  Bertram,  looking  down  at  the  packet  on 
her  knee,  colored  slightly  and  counter-questioned. 
"Where  is  your  cousin,  Winifred  Cryden,  now, 
Nelly?'*  And  upon  learning  that  Elinor  did  not 
know,  she  asked  and  obtained  the  address  of  Miss 
Cryden's  bankers.  "She  must  be  about  fifty- 
eight  or  sixty  now,"  Mrs.  Bertram  mused,  "and 
I  suppose  she's  enormously  rich.  She  never  spent 
her  income  when  she  lived  at  home,  and  I  don't 
suppose  she  does  abroad.  Forgive  me  for  speak- 
ing so  plainly  of  your  cousin,  Nelly." 

"She  is  not  a  very  near  cousin,"  Elinor  said. 
"She  is  Uncle  Jim's  first  cousin,  and  that  makes 
her " 

[5] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"She's  your  first  cousin  once  removed;  quite 
near  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Bertram  quickly.  She 
rose  as  she  spoke,  and  placing  the  packet  on  the 
table  turned  to  Elinor.  "From  Maynard,  my 
dear  Nelly.  And  if  there  is  anything  I  can  do,  be 
sure  to  let  me  know,"  and  she  rustled  away. 

Returning  from  placing  Mrs.  Bertram  in  her 
auto,  Elinor  took  up  the  package  and  was  about  to 
untie  the  blue  ribbon  which  bound  it,  when  the 
maid  entered. 

"Mr.  Ferrars  is  wishing  to  see  you,  Miss  Nelly," 
said  the  woman,  and  her  eyes  rested  with  wistful 
pity  upon  the  young  girl.  "He's  on  the  veranda 
with  Mrs.  Carme." 

"I  will  come  directly,"  said  Elinor,  and  she 
reded  the  parcel.  That  must  wait,  she  thought, 
for  Mr.  Ferrars  was  her  uncle's  lawyer. 


[6] 


II 

"...  not  one  flower  of  all  he  said  and  did 
Might  seem  to  flit  unnoticed,  fade  unknown." 

MRS.  CARME  sat  upon  the  veranda  knitting 
what  she  called  a  "cloud,"  a  filmy  mass  of 
white  wool  to  be  worn  about  the  shoulders.  She 
was  exceedingly  pleasant  to  look  upon  because 
of  her  serene  expression;  and  she  possessed,  also, 
a  quantity  of  pretty  light-brown  hair,  a  pair  of  in- 
telligent hazel  eyes,  a  fair  skin,  white  teeth,  and  a 
well-rounded  figure.  She  had  come  to  look  after 
Elinor  Ladoon  when  Elinor  was  ten  and  she 
twenty-eight  years  old.  Mr.  Ladoon  had  feared 
that  his  niece  was  becoming  too  great  a  tomboy 
under  his  sole  tuition,  and  had  called  in  the  widow 
of  one  of  his  distant  cousins  to  teach  little  Nelly 
the  womanly  graces  which  she  lacked.  Unfor- 
tunately Alicia  Carme  had  pleased  Mr.  Ladoon  too 
well,  and  finding  that  she  could  not  check  his 
determined  courtship,  she  had  regretfully  said 
good-by  to  Elinor  when  she  felt  that  her  pupil 
was  able  to  assume  control  of  her  uncle's  house- 
hold, and  had  found  a  new  position  for  herself 

[7] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


elsewhere  as  companion  to  a  lady  of  fragile  health 
and  uncertain  temper.  But  her  brief  holidays 
were  always  passed  with  Elinor. 

Mrs.  Carme  disliked  the  Bertrams,  so  she  had 
retreated  to  the  veranda  to  escape  Mrs.  Bertram's 
call.  Although  she  presented  the  appearance  of 
a  serene-faced  lady  happily  engaged  in  fabricating 
a  cloud,  she  was  in  reality  far  from  being  at  ease. 
She,  too,  had  heard  the  ugly  rumors  regarding 
Mr.  Ladoon's  loss  of  fortune,  but  she  had  had  no 
chance  to  verify  it.  Should  it  prove  true,  then  Eli- 
nor would  have,  instead  of  many  thousands,  just 
seven  hundred  a  year.  Mrs.  Carme  suppressed  a 
sigh  as  she  knit  the  last  stitch  off  one  long  needle, 
then,  rising  suddenly,  she  crossed  the  broad  veran- 
da with  noiseless  tread  to  meet  a  tall,  spare  young 
man,  of  upright  carriage,  who  was  walking  quick- 
ly over  the  little  lawn  toward  the  house.  It  was 
Mr.  Ferrars,  Mr.  Ladoon's  lawyer. 

Mrs.  Carme  scanned  his  face  closely  as  he  ap- 
proached; she  was  frankly  curious  about  him  be- 
cause of  his  career,  past,  present,  and  to  come. 

Edward  Ferrars  had  worked  his  way  through 
college  and  the  law  school,  his  father — an  unsuc- 
cessful literary  man — not  having  had  enough 
money  to  give  his  son  the  education  he  desired. 
And  now  it  was  an  open  secret  that  it  was  owing 

[8] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


to  young  Ferrars's  clever  brain  that  the  knotted 
affairs  of  a  great  corporation  had  been  disen- 
tangled. He  was  thirty-three — and  he  had  ar- 
rived !  Every  one  prophesied  that  he  would  go  far. 
Poor  James  Ladoon,  hoping  that  Mr.  Ferrars's 
skill  might  save  him,  too,  from  shipwreck,  had 
consulted  him  six  weeks  before.  It  was  too  late. 

Mrs.  Carme  greeted  Mr.  Ferrars  pleasantly  but, 
as  she  looked  into  the  keen  eyes  bent  upon  her, 
she  asked  a  question  in  her  slow,  quiet  way,  that 
made  the  young  man  wonder  at  her  unruffled 
composure  of  manner. 

"Please  speak  softly,  Mr.  Ferrars,"  she  said, 
"when  you  tell  me  what  I  want  to  know,  for  I 
wish  no  one  to  overhear.  (Miss  Ladoon  is  in  the 
parlor  entertaining  Mrs.  Bertram.)  Is  it  true 
that  James  Ladoon  has  lost  all  his  money?" 
Mr.  Ferrars  bowed  gravely.  "All?"  Mrs.  Carme 
reiterated. 

"Wiped  out,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

Mrs.  Carme  turned  and,  recrossing  the  veranda 
as  noiselessly  as  before,  seated  herself  and  re- 
sumed her  knitting.  Mr.  Ferrars  followed,  and 
stood  looking  down  at  her  as  though  the  serene- 
faced  lady  were  a  difficult  law  problem  that  he 
would  very  much  like  to  solve.  He  was  a  typical 
American  in  appearance,  clear-cut,  keen-eyed,  and 

[9] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


with  a  composure  of  manner  that  in  some  sub- 
tle way  suggested  an  always  ready  and  intense 
alertness.  But  either  his  readiness  now  failed 
him,  or  he  preferred  that  Mrs.  Carme  should 
make  the  next  move,  for  he  did  not  speak.  Mrs. 
Carme  broke  the  silence. 

"Mrs.  Bertram  is  now  calling  upon  Elinor," 
she  announced  slowly.  "  Elinor  has  always  known 
the  Bertrams.  And  you,  too,  Mr.  Ferrars,  have 
always  known  them?" 

"Yes,"  was  Mr.  Ferrars's  brief  reply. 

"Nelly  accepts  Mrs.  Bertram  without  criticism, 
just  as  she  accepts  the  sand-dunes  and  the  sea." 
Mrs.  Carme  gently  motioned  toward  the  blue 
dip  between  the  dunes,  an  exquisite  bit  of  sea- 
scape visible  from  the  veranda.  "I  do  not  accept 
Mrs.  Bertram.  I  dislike  her  very  much.  I  am 
glad  that  Elinor  is  not  engaged  to  Maynard  Ber- 
tram, very  glad  indeed."  And  she  knitted  with 
an  air  of  serene  contentment  agreeable  to  look 
upon. 

"Not  engaged  ?  Are  you  sure  ?  Why  I  heard — " 
Mr.  Ferrars  broke  off  abruptly,  perhaps  suddenly 
aware  that  he  was  speaking  with  unnecessary 
eagerness. 

Mrs.  Carme  did  not  glance  up.  She  had,  ap- 
parently, not  observed  the  eagerness.  She  shook 

[10] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


her  head  slowly.  "N-o,"  she  drawled,  "N-o, 
they  are  not  engaged.  If  you  should  hear  the  re- 
port again  you  might  contradict  it — on  my  au- 
thority, you  know." 

"I  will  certainly  do  so,"  said  the  young  man, 
with  a  careful  steadiness  of  tone.  "  But  Maynard 
is  a  handsome  fellow — and  rich — and " 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Carme  acquiesced  with  gentle  in- 
difference, "oh,  yes.  Handsome,  rich,  well- 
mannered,  but — "  She  glanced  up  suddenly  into 
the  eyes  watching  her  with  such  interest,  and 
shook  her  head.  "It  wouldn't  do  at  all,  Mr. 
Ferrars!"  Then  she  asked  another  slow  ques- 
tion. "How  did  Mr.  Ladoon  lose  the  money  ?" 

"Gambling,"  was  the  reply.  "Everybody  will 
know  in  a  day  or  two.  Will  you  tell — her  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Carme  quietly.  "Ah,  I  hear 
the  front  door  closing."  They  were  upon  the  sea- 
ward veranda.  "I  will  send  Nelly  to  you  here," 
and  she  was  moving  away  when  Mr.  Ferrars 
stopped  her. 

"  I  should  like,  if  possible,  to  see  Mr.  Ladoon," 
he  said. 

Mrs.  Carme  paused  and  gazed  meditatively 
at  the  young  man  before  she  replied.  "  Perhaps 
you  might  help  us,"  she  said  at  last.  "I  suppose 
you  heard  that  Mr.  Ladoon  was  struck  down 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


with  paralysis.  Only  his  eyes  show  that  he  is 
alive;  and  their  expression  makes  Elinor  miserable, 
for  in  them  is  a  question  that  we  can  neither  of  us 
understand.  We  have  made  every  effort,  but,  so 
far,  in  vain." 

As  she  finished  speaking  Elinor  herself  appeared 
in  the  doorway  and  greeted  Mr.  Ferrars.  Mrs. 
Carme  repeated  her  suggestion,  and  the  girl  agree- 
ing gladly,  the  three  went  upstairs  to  the  sick 
man's  room,  where,  presently,  Mr.  Ferrars  en- 
tered alone,  Mrs.  Carme  and  Elinor  remaining  in 
the  hall.  The  nurse  came  out  and  stood  a  mo- 
ment beside  the  two  in  silence.  Then  she  spoke. 

"I  think  I  will  telephone  for  the  doctor,"  she 
said,  looking  at  Mrs.  Carme.  "There  is  a  change. 
I  think  I  had  better  telephone.  Will  you  stay 
here  until  I  return?" 

"Is  he  worse?"   Elinor  asked  anxiously. 

The  nurse  did  not  answer,  but  went  swiftly 
downstairs.  The  door  of  the  bedroom  opened 
and  Mr.  Ferrars  came  out.  He  was  very  pale 
and  he  scrutinized  the  face  of  the  young  girl 
searchingly  as,  in  low  tones,  he  explained  that 
he  had  discovered  what  Mr.  Ladoon  wished. 

"He  is  anxious  about  you,  Miss  Ladoon,"  said 
the  lawyer,  "and  he  wishes  me  to  act  as  your  guar- 
dian. Are  you  willing?" 

[12] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Yes,  yes,  indeed,"  cried  the  girl  quickly,  "if 
you  will  be  so  kind." 

Mr.  Ferrars  held  out  his  hand.  "Then  put 
your  hand  in  mine" — he  smiled  faintly  as  he 
gave  his  strange  order — "and  come  with  me  to 
your  uncle's  bedside.  Say  to  him  that  you  have 
every  confidence  in  me — you  have  confidence, 
Miss  Nelly?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  simply,  "perfect  confidence, 
Mr.  Ferrars.  Why,  I  have  known  you  all  my 
life!" 

The  color  swept  across  Mr.  Ferrars's  face.  His 
grasp  on  her  hand  tightened.  "Thank  you,"  he 
murmured.  "Please  say  to  your  uncle:  'I  agree 
to  everything,  and  I  believe  that  all  will  come 
right.'  " 

They  entered  the  room  together. 

Between  Mrs.  Carme's  quiet  eyebrows  there 
came  three  deep,  perpendicular  lines.  She  rose, 
and,  standing,  awaited  the  nurse's  return. 

"Is  he  dying?"  she  inquired  when,  presently, 
the  nurse  reappeared. 

"He  cannot  last  through  the  afternoon,  I 
think,"  was  the  reply.  "The  doctor  will  be  here 
directly.  Miss  Ladoon  is — "  She  motioned  tow- 
ard the  closed  door  of  the  sick-room. 

"Yes,  with  Mr.  Ferrars,"  was  the  answer. 

"[13] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"It's  tht  Mr.  Ferrers?"  questioned  the  nurse. 
Mrs.  Carme  bowed  in  reply.  "They  say  he  will 
toon  be  the  leading  lawyer  in  the  State — hush! 
What  was  that?**  as  a  sharp  cry  came  from  the 
sick-room. 

The  nurse  entered  precipitately;  Mrs.  Carme 
followed.  Elinor  was  upon  her  knees  at  the  bed- 
side, Mr.  Ferrars  close  beside  her.  Her  words 
had  brought  to  her  uncle  the  peace  for  which  he 
had  searched  so  vainly,  even  the  peace  that  passeth 
all  understanding;  he  lay  back  upon  his  pillows, 
dead. 

Mr.  Ferrars  attended  to  everything  before  he 
returned  to  town,  even  telling  Elinor  of  the  change 
in  her  fortunes.  It  was  but  his  duty,  he  said  to 
Mrs.  Carme,  as  guardian  to  Miss  Ladoon. 

"You  have  spared  us  both  every  disagreeable 
that  you  possibly  could,"  Mrs.  Carme  said  slowly, 
holding  out  her  hand.  "I  have  a  retentive  mem- 
ory, Mr.  Ferrars,  and  I  shall  not  forget.  I  am 
very  grateful."  She  shook  hands  with  him.  "  If 
there  should  ever  be  anything  that  I  could  do  for 
you " 

"I  should  be  very  glad  of  your  friendship,  Mrs. 
Carme,"  Mr.  Ferrars  said  earnestly.  "If  you  will 
grant  me  that,  I,  in  my  turn,  will  be  grateful." 

[HI 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"It  is  already  yours,"  was  the  cordial  answer. 
As  the  door  closed  behind  the  young  man,  the 
three  lines  reappeared  between  Mrs.  Carme's 
placid  eyebrows.  "I  wish,"  she  murmured — "I 
do  wish  that  Elinor  had  never  been  engaged!" 


Ill 

"And  the  doves  of  Venus  fled  and  the  petrels  came 
instead." 

AFTER  Mr.  Ferrars's  departure  Mrs.  Carme 
JL  \,  went  upstairs  to  join  Elinor,  whom  she  knew 
she  should  find  in  her  room.  The  way  in  which  the 
girl  closed  and  relocked  the  door  after  admitting 
her  told  the  poor  lady  that  the  new  trouble  she 
had  foreseen  was  at  hand,  for  this  was  done  with 
a  controlled  gentleness  that  made  the  atmosphere 
seem  tense  with  subdued  passion. 

"Take  that  chair,  Alicia,"  she  said,  pointing  to 
one  in  a  distant  corner.  "  I  have  opened  the  win- 
dow; the  night  is  frosty,  you  must  not  sit  in  a 
draught." 

Her  voice  was  colorless  and  cold,  so  different 
in  tone  from  its  usual  sweet,  rich  cadences,  that 
Mrs.  Carme  scanned  her  face  closely,  alarmed  by 
the  change.  The  girl's  expression  was  set  and 
hard,  her  mouth  so  firmly  closed  that  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  realize  that  the  drawn  lips  could  curve  in 
happy  smiles.  Her  eyes  were  cast  down,  and 
Mrs.  Carme,  thus  denied  the  reading  of  their  blue 
[16] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


depths,  looked  keenly  about  the  room,  seeking 
for  the  proof  of  what  she  had  already  divined. 
Upon  the  table  lay  a  little  heap  of  letters  and  pho- 
tographs. Then  she  saw  that  one  of  Elinor's 
white  hands  was  balled  into  a  fist,  and  she  guessed 
what  it  held. 

Wasting  no  words,  Mrs.  Carme  pointed  toward 
the  letters  on  the  table:  "Maynard  Bertram?" 
she  asked. 

Elinor  bowed  gravely.  It  was  as  if  she  could 
not  speak,  but  she  lifted  her  large  eyes  and  looked 
fully  at  her  questioner.  Then  unclosing  her 
firmly  clinched  hand  she  disclosed  a  crumpled 
note,  and  holding  it  toward  Mrs.  Carme  found 
her  voice. 

"The  first  stone,"  she  said,  and,  so  saying, 
began  to  smooth  out  the  letter. 

"The  ante-mortem  statement  of  a  weakling," 
was  Mrs.  Carme's  quiet  comment.  "I  may  read 
it,  Nelly?" 

"Then  you  guess  the  contents?"  cried  the  girl 
quickly.  She  placed  the  letter  in  Mrs.  Carme's 
hands. 

"I  know  the  Bertram  breed — and  their  creed," 
was  the  composed  answer.  "The  world  is  full  of 
Bertrams.  They  are  the  Brazen  Pots  of  the  old 
fable,  and  you  now  belong,  like  me,  to  the  Earth- 

[-7] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


enware  variety.  It  is  better  that  we  should  avoid 
their  neighborhood,  Nelly.  We  can't  swim  down 
the  stream  of  life  together."  And  she  read  the 
letter. 

"My  dearest  Girl — for  dearest  you  will  always 
be  to  me — this  is  to  beg  you  to  forgive  me  and  to 
say  good-by!  But  good-by  only  for  the  present, 
my  darling  Nelly — yes,  I  swear  to  you,  only  for 
the  present,  dear.  Dad  and  the  mater  have  shut 
down  on  our  engagement.  They  say  it  isn't  fair 
to  you,  since  I  haven't  a  cent  outside  of  my  allow- 
ance, and  besides  that  being  hardly  big  enough  for 
me,  the  governor  swears  he  will  stop  it  altogether 
if  I  marry  before  I  am  making  an  income  of  my 
own.  I  shall  go  into  business  directly  I  come 
home.  Oh,  I  forgot  you  didn't  know,  Nelly,  but 
I  am  sailing  for  France  to-morrow  morning.  I 
am  to  motor  through  the  chateau  country  with 
the  Gillespies — you  remember  they  wired  to  in- 
vite me  last  week  ?  I  wired  back  'no*  then,  didn't 
want  to  leave  home,  but  now — oh,  what's  the 
use  of  talking  about  it!  I  simply  can't  stand 
hanging  round  home  under  these  changed  con- 
ditions. If  your  uncle  hadn't  gone  broke  this 
never  would  have  happened.  There,  it's  out  now. 
They  said  I  mustn't  tell  you,  but  you'd  better 
[18] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


know  the  truth.  Dad  and  the  mater  are  as  hard 
as  nails.  You  know  how  they  feel  about  money. 
It's  rotten,  and  it  makes  me  deadly  ashamed  of 
them — yes,  and  of  myself,  too,  but  I  swear  this 
state  of  things  sha'n't  last  long.  Old  Gillespie  is 
as  rich  as  a  Jew,  and  he'll  put  me  in  the  way  of 
earning  my  living  and  yours,  darling  Nell.  He's 
to  join  the  party  later,  some  time  in  the  winter, 
and  early  next  spring  I'll  be  home  and  at  work. 

"I've  given  my  promise  not  to  correspond  with 
you,  and  I'm  returning  your  photos,  etc.  Keep 
them  for  me,  sweetheart,  till  I'm  in  a  position  to 
ask  for  them  back  again,  and  believe  me  always, 

"Your  loving 

"MAYNARD." 

When  Mrs.  Carme  had  finished  reading  she  did 
what  seemed  a  cruel  thing;  she  turned  the  knife 
in  the  wound. 

"There  is  a  Miss  Gillespie,  Nelly  ?" 

"Yes,  oh  yes,"  came  the  quick  answer.  "Not 
one,  but  two.  There  are  two  demoiselles  Gilles- 
pie, Alicia."  She  laughed;  a  musical  peal  enough, 
but  of  a  quality  that  hurt  the  heart  of  the  listener. 

"He  is  not  worth  thinking  of,"  said  Mrs.  Carme 
serenely.  "A  broken  reed,  giving  way.  in  your 
hour  of  trouble.  But  you  never  knew  the  real 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Maynard  Bertram,  Nelly.  You  were  engaged  to 
an  imaginary  Maynard,  and  he  is  dead.  Mourn 
him  if  you  will,  but  as  for  this  other,  forget  him, 
or  remember  him  only  as  an  agreeable  playmate 
— nen  de  plus!" 

"You  do  not  seem  to  realize  that  I  have  been 
jilted,"  said  Elinor,  still  speaking  in  cold,  colorless 
tones — "jilted,  I,  Elinor  Ladoon!"  She  moved  to 
a  tall  mirror  and  surveyed  herself  curiously.  "A 
jilted  woman,"  she  continued  as  though  speaking 
to  herself.  "  I  never  saw  a  jilted  woman  before.  I 
have  read  about  them,  women  who  wore  the  wil- 
low, but,  to  my  knowledge,  I  have  never  met  a 
jilted  girl.  You  may  think,  because  I  speak  in 
this  way,  Alicia,  that  it  is  only  my  vanity  that  is 
wounded,  but  you  are  wrong.  I  have  a  deep 
affection  for  Maynard,  an  affection  that  has  grown 
with  my  growth." 

She  turned  from  the  mirror,  seating  herself 
beside  Mrs.  Carme.  "Listen,"  she  said;  she 
spoke  very  quietly,  "the  affection  I  have  for  May- 
nard must  be  uprooted,  that  I  know.  I  would 
not  marry  him  now,  never  mind  how  often  he 
might  ask  me.  But  the  uprooting  is  going  to  hurt 
bitterly,  Alicia.  Already  my  heart  aches  miser- 
ably, miserably!  I  have  lost  both  Uncle  Jim  and 
Maynard.  You,  and  Uncle  Jim,  and  Maynard, 

[20] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


were  my  only  close  friends.  For  you  know  I  am 
not  like  other  girls,  Alicia,  you  know  how  Uncle 
Jim  disapproved  of  my  having  intimate  girl 
friends,  and  frowned  such  friendships  down." 

Mrs.  Carme  took  the  girl's  hand,  stroking  it 
gently.  "I  know,  I  know/'  she  said.  "But  no 
one  else  will  ever  know  anything  about  your  feel- 
ings, Nelly.  I  told  Mr.  Ferrars  that  no  engage- 
ment existed  between  you  and  Maynard.  I  asked 
him  to  contradict  the  report  on  my  authority.  The 
Bertrams  will  hardly  care  to  speak  of  the  matter. 
It  is  ended." 

Elinor  sprang  to  her  feet.  "Alicia,  Alicia," 
she  cried,  "you  are  so  good  to  me!  I  can  never 
thank  you  enough  for  what  you  have  done.  But 
how  did  you  know  what — what" — she  hesitated, 
then  pointing  toward  the  letters  on  the  table — 
"what  he  would  do?" 

"You  are  poor,"  was  the  brief  reply.  "As  I 
said  before,  I  know  the  Bertram  breed." 

Elinor  moved  slowly  to  the  table  and  drawing 
off  her  engagement  ring,  a  fine  sapphire,  chosen, 
her  lover  had  said,  to  match  her  eyes,  laid  it 
gently  down.  As  the  big  blue  gem  caught  the  light 
it  flashed  into  splendid  beauty  and,  as  might  the 
magical  jewel  of  some  great  genie,  illuminated 
with  almost  painful  clearness  one  of  memory's 

UM 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


pictures:  A  country  road  bordered  by  grand  old 
cedars;  two  gypsy  carts  drawn  up  on  the  stretch 
of  turf  to  one  side;  the  horses  tethered;  the  solitary 
guardian,  an  elderly  gypsy  woman,  fast  asleep. 
Two  riders,  a  young  girl  and  a  handsome  lad  of 
nineteen,  reining  in  their  horses  to  look  curiously 
at  the  encampment.  The  warm  sun  of  noon  in 
late  October  shining  softly  down  upon  the  tall 
beauty  of  the  trees,  the  weary  face  of  the  slumber- 
ing woman,  and  the  laughing  young  man  sweeping 
off  his  hat  in  mocking  salutation,  and  calling  to  the 
woman  to  awake  and  salute  her  queen! 

Elinor  saw — by  the  sapphire's  light — her  own 
effort  to  stop  Maynard  from  carrying  out  his  pur- 
pose. She  seemed  to  hear,  echoing  from  the  past, 
his  gay  words  of  insistence. 

"You  are  the  queen  of  the  Gypsies,  Nelly,  in 
spite  of  your  sapphire-blue  eyes.  Let's  see  how 
old  sleepy-head  will  salute  her  sovereign  lady! 
— Come,  Madame  Zingane,  wake  up,  wake  up!" 
And  the  woman  awoke;  awoke  strangely,  for  she 
did  not  start,  or  change  her  attitude,  outstretched 
upon  the  bank  beneath  the  dark  trees,  but  merely 
opened  wide  a  pair  of  great  black  eyes  and  stared 
fixedly  at  Maynard.  There  was  no  trace  of  re- 
cent sleep  in  the  eyes,  and  the  face  remained  as 
expressionless  as  a  mask.  Elinor  remembered  the 

[22] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


careless  insolence  in  Maynard's  demand  that  she 
should  tell  their  fortunes.  He  had  looked  so 
handsome;  tall,  laughing,  debonair,  as  he  sat  his 
horse  with  graceful  ease. 

The  gypsy  rose  and  drew  near,  her  eyes  fixed 
in  their  unwavering  stare  upon  his  face.  Then 
she  spoke : 

"Weak  mouth,  weak  chin, 
And  nought  within," 

she  said  coldly,  "although  you  are  so  proud  of 
your  brown,  curly  hair,  your  blue  eyes,  and  your 
handsome  skin!  But  the  little  lady  is  my  queen, 
you  say,  so  give  me  your  hand  and  I'll  see  if  you'll 
win  her." 

When  Maynard  held  out  his  hand  the  woman 
had  shown  interest,  but  declared  that  there  was 
no  luck  in  telling  bad  fortunes;  and  he  had  vainly 
promised  her  much  money  to  reveal  what  she  had 
read.  Elinor  remembered  the  gypsy's  firm  touch 
upon  her  hand  when  the  woman  had  herself  asked 
to  see  her  "queen's"  palm,  and  her  own  whispered 
apology  for  having  aroused  her.  "You  look  so 
very  tired,"  she  had  said,  "I  am  sorry  we  waked 
you." 

The  woman  turned  to  Maynard.  "She  is  the 
sunshine — and  you  must  die  in  the  shadow." 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Cheerful  news!"  was  Maynard's  laughing 
comment,  as  he  tossed  a  piece  of  money  at  the 
gypsy's  feet.  "  But  I  don't  believe  in  your  powers 
of  divination.  I  don't  believe  you  could  even  tell 
me  the  age  of  your  queen  here!" 

"Sixteen,"  said  the  woman  quietly. 

"Right  you  are,"  cried  Maynard  in  wonder. 
"Well,  you've  earned  your  money.  Pick  it  up, 
and  I'll  double  it  if  you'll  tell  me  more." 

"Sunshine,"  was  the  curt  response,  "and  shad- 
ow! The  first  for  her,  for  you  the  other." 

Four  years  had  passed.  It  was  again  late 
October.  But  it  was  not  to  Maynard,  Elinor 
thought  as  she  put  away  his  ring,  it  was  not  to 
Maynard  that  the  shadow  had  come. 

"I  sha'n't  stay  here,  nor  shall  I  spend  the  winter 
in  New  York,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Carme,  beginning 
to  move  restlessly  about  the  room.  "I  must  try 
to  get  something  to  do.  I  can  teach  music,  I 
think,  but  not  here,  or  in  New  York.  I  realize 
too  clearly  what  lies  before  me.  The  Bertrams 
have  thrown  the  first  stone,  and  I  know  what  a 
heavy  shower  of  pebbles  will  follow.  I  remem- 
ber"— she  mentioned  the  name  of  a  young  girl  of 
her  acquaintance  who  had  suddenly  been  reduced 
to  almost  penury — "I  remember  how  people 
treated  her.  At  first  no  one  could  do  enough 

[24] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


for  her — but  how  patronizingly  they  did  it!  Most 
of  them  eager  to  show  off  their  generosity  to  the 
gallery.  Then,  little  by  little,  she  was  dropped 
out  of  everything;  and  when  she  was  remembered, 
even  when  people,  nice  people,  tried  to  show  no 
difference  between  her  and  us  other  girls,  they  did 
so  in  spite  of  themselves.  Even  their  voices 
changed,  softening  when  they  spoke,  or — with  the 
nasty  people — hardening  into  indifference.  They 
even  forgot  that  she  had  ever  been  as  they,  that 
she  had  ever  been  well  off,  gay,  insouciant* — in 
short,  their  semblable.  No,"  she  stamped  her 
foot  with  sudden  passion,  "no,  I  will  never  endure 
what  she  lived  through.  I  am  going  away.  I 
shall  have  what  father  left  me,  seven  hundred 
dollars  a  year.  I  must  learn  to  make  that  do  un- 
til I  can  find — employment." 

Mrs.  Carme  began  to  knit.  "I  have  a  little 
more  than  that  now,"  she  said.  "We  might 
take  a  small  apartment  somewhere,  and  live  to- 
gether. I  have  been  saving  up  for  my  old  age, 
but " 

"You  are  to  go  on  saving,"  Elinor  interrupted. 
"I  will  not  consent  to  be  a  burden  upon  you, 
Alicia." 

"There's  no  immediate  hurry,  I  suppose,"  said 
Mrs.  Carme  placidly.  "But  we  must  talk  over 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


your  clothes,  dear.     I  am  glad  you  bought  that 
handsome    black    astrakhan    jacket    last    winter, 
it  will  go  nicely  with  your  mourning  and  save  get- 
ting a  new  coat." 


[26] 


IV 

"We've  sent  our  little  Cupids  all  ashore — 

They  were  frightened,  they  were  tired,  they  were  cold; 
Our  sails  of  silk  and  purple  go  to  store 

And  we've  cut  away  our  mast  of  beaten  gold. 
(Foul  weather!)" 

TWO  weeks  dragged  slowly  by  and  Elinor  was 
alone  in  the  great  house  by  the  sea.  It  was 
hers  no  longer;  it  had  been  sold  under  the  hammer 
to  pay  the  mortgages.  There  would  be  a  little, 
a  very  little  money  left  after  the  estate  was  settled, 
and  this  together  with  the  household  effects,  the 
portraits  and  the  family  silver,  was  all  that  would 
come  to  the  heiress  of  James  Ladoon. 

Mrs.  Carme  had  had  to  return  to  her  work, 
and  Elinor  was  to  follow  her  to  town  very  soon. 
Before  that  time,  however,  Mrs.  Carme  received 
the  following  letter,  enclosed  in  a  little  note  begging 

for  advice. 

"HOTEL  DU  JARDIN, 

"  VrLLE-DE-PLAISra 

"(CoiE  D'AZTJR),  FRANCE. 
"My  DEAR  ELINOR: 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  of  cousin  James's  death 
and  of  his  loss  of  fortune.  You  may  be  surprised 
that  this  ill  news  has  reached  me  so  soon,  but  not 

[27] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


more  so  than  I  was  by  the  manner  of  its  coming. 
I  consider  it  excessively  impertinent  in  that  Ber- 
tram woman  to  have  taken  it  upon  herself  to 
cable  me  such  unwelcome  intelligence,  and  in 
such  a  peculiarly  impudent  fashion,  giving  me 
to  understand  that  she  thought  it  my  business  to 
look  after  you!  Quelle  idee! 

"The  cablegram  was  as  long  as  a  letter — a 
most  vulgar,  ostentatious  piece  of  swagger  extrava- 
gance! I  will  show  it  to  you  later.  I  write  now 
to  ask  you  to  spend  the  winter  with  me  here.  I 
will  pay  your  passage  over  and  back,  pay  all  your 
travelling  expenses,  in  short,  and  your  board.  I 
shall  expect  you  to  settle  your  own  laundry  bills, 
and  to  fee  the  femme  de  chambre.  I  will  attend 
to  the  other  feeing  myself. 

"You  will  realize  that  I  am  making  you  a  very 
liberal  offer,  and  I  don't  doubt  that  you  will 
cheerfully  undertake  to  render  me  the  slight 
service  that  I  shall  expect  in  return.  Nothing 
laborious  or  menial,  I  assure  you.  I  shall  ex- 
pect you  not  to  tell  of  your  altered  fortunes. 
You  were,  you  are,  the  heiress  of  the  so-called 
millionaire,  James  Ladoon.  Foreigners — like 
Americans — adore  money.  It  is  none  of  their 
business,  anyway,  whether  you  are  rich  or  poor — 
is  it  ? 

[28] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"And  one  thing  more.  James  sent  me  your 
latest  photograph.  If  you  have  gone  off  since  it 
was  taken,  or  if  your  complexion  is  poor — pho- 
tographs are  so  untrue  in  regard  to  complexion — 
I  might  better  tell  you  plainly  to  remain  at  home. 
You  are  to  come  as  my  rich  and  handsome  cousin 
— or  not  at  all. 

"I  have  heard  so  much  in  favor  of  a  Mr.  Edward 
Ferrars  that  I  have  engaged  him  to  look  after  my 
small  estate.  (My  dear  old  Mr.  Deff  died  three 
months  ago.)  Mr.  Ferrars  will  secure  your  pas- 
sage for  you,  etc.  Write  to  him  if  you  decide  to 
come.  He  will  cable  me,  and  attend  to  everything. 
I  enclose  his  address. 

"Tout  a  vous, 

"WINIFRED  CRYDEN." 

Mrs.  Carme  read  the  letter  through  three  times. 
Then  she  telegraphed  to  Elinor:  "Go,  by  all 
means,"  and  then  she  put  on  her  thinking  cap. 

"What  does  that  stingy,  foolish  creature  want 
of  my  Nelly?"  she  asked  herself  over  and  over 
again,  but  the  riddle  was  too  difficult  for  her  solv- 
ing. Sighing  a  little,  the  always  outwardly  placid 
lady  sallied  forth  and  bought  a  steamer  rug  and 
a  long,  diaphanous  black  scarf.  Both  were  to 
protect  her  favorite  from  the  cold — the  rug  when 

[29] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


travelling,  the  scarf  when  flitting  through  the 
draughty  corridors  of  a  foreign  hotel. 

When  Elinor  said  good-by,  Mrs.  Carme's  last 
words  were  words  of  advice:  "Do  not  change, 
dear  Nelly;  do  not  grow  bitter.  Remain  your  own 
sweet,  gracious  self.  Always  be  kind,  my  dear, 
always  be  kind." 

Smiling  through  her  tears,  Elinor  asked  this 
question:  "Even  to  the  turning  of  the  other 
cheek,  Alicia?" 

Mrs.  Carme  looked  at  her  gravely  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  said:  "Yes,  always  be  gentle,  always 
be  kind."  And  as  she  drew  back  to  allow  Mr. 
Ferrars  to  make  his  farewells,  for  he  was  there  on 
his  double  duty,  as  guardian  to  Elinor  and  man 
of  affairs  for  Miss  Cryden — as  Mrs.  Carme  quietly 
withdrew  she  thought  to  herself  that  her  advice 
was  good.  For  if  Elinor  would  but  remain  as 
sweet  and  gracious  as  she  had  ever  been,  de- 
manding nothing,  forgetful  of  self,  she  would  at 
any  rate  have  a  pleasant  atmosphere  about  her, 
and  that  was  much. 

Mrs.  Carme's  eyes  overflowed  as  the  steamer 
disappeared  down  the  bay.  "My  brave  Nelly," 
she  murmured,  "may  God  bless  and  keep  her!" 

"Amen!  "  said  her  fellow-watcher  fervently. 

The   two   traversed   the   dock   in   silence,   but 

[30] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


when  Mr.  Ferrars  said  good-by  to  Mrs.  Carme 
he  asked  a  favor  that  pleased  her  greatly. 

"  If  you  will  allow  me  I  will  come  in,  in  a  couple 
of  weeks,  for  news  of  Miss  Ladoon,"  he  said, 
coloring  hotly.  "She  has  given  me  permission  to 
write  to  her,  but  of  course  when  she  answers  my 
letters  she  won't  tell  me  just  how  it  is  with  her — 
and  I  want  to  know." 

"I  shall  receive  few  complaints,  Mr.  Ferrars, 
no  matter  how  trying  Nelly  may  find  her  position/.' 
said  Mrs.  Carme  gently.  "She  is  no  grumbler, 
poor  child!" 

"But  you  will  know  without  being  told,"  the 
young  man  insisted  eagerly,  "for  you  will  be  able 
to  read  between  the  lines." 

"You  must  come  and  see  me,  at  any  rate," 
Mrs.  Carme  said  smiling,  shaking  hands  cordially 
with  Miss  Ladoon's  anxious  guardian.  "And 
you  cannot  come  too  often.  It  will  be  a  real 
kiridness  on  your  part,  for  there  is  no  one  else  to 
whom  I  can  speak  freely  of  Elinor,  and  you  know 
what  that  means  to  me." 

As  Mrs.  Carme  drove  home  she  sighed  over  the 
trying  ways  of  the  Fates.  If  the  three  sisters 
had  but  woven  together  the  threads  of  these  two 
lives  instead  of  twisting  Elinor's  with  Maynard 
Bertram's! 

[31] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Yes,  let  Mr.  Ferrars  come  in  often — the  oftener 
the  better,  as  she  had  said  to  him.  Much  could 
be  done  by  letters,  and  a  word  in  season.  "And 
I  will  back  him  for  all  I  am  worth,"  she  murmured, 
lapsing  into  slang. 

Mrs.  Carme  had  been  leaning  back  restfully 
in  the  carriage,  but  a  disagreeable  thought  now 
startled  her  into  a  stiff  uprightness  of  position. 
Maynard  had  to  be  reckoned  with,  and  this  she 
had  failed  to  remember.  He  had  loved  Elinor 
all  his  life;  he  had  been  accustomed  to  her  com- 
panionship always.  And  he  was  in  France, 
whither  his  life-long  sweetheart  and  companion 
was  now  sailing. 

"He  can  never  live  up  to  his  promises  to  his 
parents  if  he  hears  that  Nelly  is  anywhere  near 
him — never,  never,  never!"  the  disturbed  lady  said 
to  herself.  "That  silly  letter  of  his  was  written 
when  his  weak  head  was  half  crazed  with  despair 
and  excitement.  He  is  now  probably  regretting 
bitterly  that  he  had  not  courage  to  stand  up 
against  his  mother.  But  what  will  he  do?  Of 
course  he  will  hear  that  the  child  is  to  be  with 
Winifred  Cryden.  Mrs.  Bertram  will  be  too  proud 
of  her  successful  meddling  to  be  able  to  keep  it 
to  herself;  and,  anyway,  Maynard  will  be  sure 
to  hear  from  some  of  his  friends  at  home.  He 

[32] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


will  try  to  see  Nelly.  He  will  not  be  able  to  keep 
away  from  her.  Oh,  I  do  hope  that  those  Gilles- 
pies  will  take  it  into  their  heads  to  motor  through 
England — or  anywhere  out  of  France!" 

And  she  fell  to  assuring  herself  that  this  would 
probably  be  the  case,  France  being  a  small  coun- 
try and  people  of  the  Gillespie  stamp  finding 
their  chief  pleasure,  when  travelling,  in  the  rapid- 
ity of  their  touring  car. 

Mr.  Ferrars,  too,  was  troubled  by  disturbing 
thoughts  as  he  walked  swiftly  in  the  direction  of 
his  office.  He  was  remembering  his  last  interview 
with  James  Ladoon,  remembering  his  confession 
to  the  dying  man  of  his  love  for  Elinor,  his  desire 
to  win  her  for  his  wife — and  remembering  the 
look  of  relief  that  had  come  into  those  poor  anxious 
eyes!  He  could  almost  hear  again  Elinor's  sweet 
voice  repeating  obediently  and  gravely  the  words 
that  he  himself  had  daringly  given  her,  words 
that  meant  so  much  to  her  uncle,  words  the  trend 
of  which  she  might  not  even  imagine.  But — 
had  he  played  fair  ? 

"Ah,  well,"  he  thought,  his  lips  tightening  into 
a  line  of  iron  determination,  "all's  fair  in  love 
and  war!  And  if  poor  Ladoon  went  out  of  the 
world  the  happier  in  the  belief  that  she  was  will- 
ing to  give  me  a  chance,  it  can  do  no  one  harm." 

[33] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Then,  like  Mrs.  Carme,  his  mind  was  suddenly 
tormented  by  the  recollection  of  Maynard  Ber- 
tram's presence  in  France,  and,  also  like  Mrs. 
Carme,  he  felt  sure  that  Maynard  would  try  to 
see  Elinor.  "The  beggar  is  head  over  ears  in 
love  with  her,"  he  said  to  himself  ruefully,  "and 
now's  the  time,  naturally,  for  him  to  go  in  and  win. 
She's  in  trouble  and  far  away  from  home.  He's 
an  old  friend,  and  that  will  mean  much.  And  I 
chained  here  hand  and  foot!" 

And  he  fell  to  wondering  if  he  were  not  in  great 
need  of  rest  and  change  of  scene.  Then  smiled 
grimly  at  himself  for  this  trumped  up  excuse; 
while  his  longing  to  get  away  grew  like  Jack's 
bean-stalk,  obscuring  for  a  time  his  legitimate 
business,  the  affairs  of  other  folk. 

And  had  he  known  of  the  broken  engagement, 
he  would  not  have  been  a  whit  more  at  his  ease. 
He  would  have  felt  with  Mrs.  Carme  that,  by  hook 
or  by  crook,  Maynard  Bertram  would  make  his 
way  back  to  Elinor. 


[34] 


"O'er  all  there  hung  the  shadow  of  a  fear; 
A  sense  of  mystery  the  spirit  daunted." 

BOTH  Mrs.  Carme  and  Elinor  had  been  to 
Europe  several  times,  but  it  so  happened 
that  although  they  had  journeyed  southward 
through  sunny  France  neither  one  of  them  had 
ever  stopped  at  Ville-de-Plaisir.  Elinor's  first 
letter,  written  on  the  steamer,  described  the  voyage 
as  uninteresting  and  uneventful.  Her  second  was 
as  follows: 

"HOTEL  DU  JARDIN, 

"VILLA  FENICE, 
'  'V  ILLE-DE-PLAISIR,  FRANCE. 

"DEAR  ALICIA: 

"I  confess  that  I  am  rather  sorry  that  I  promised 
to  write  you  all  the  disagreeables,  for  it  seems  to 
me  a  very  foolish  thing  to  do.  What  appear  to 
be  'dunderbergs'  sometimes  turn  out  to  be  noth- 
ing but  harmless  vapor,  and  you  may  worry  over 
a  cloud  that  has  a  silver  lining. 

"The  train  was   behind   time  last  night  and  I 

O 

arrived  very  late.     You  will  be  displeased  to  hear 

[35] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


that  I  travelled  alone,  Winifred  not  having  sent 
any  one  to  meet  me  at  Cherbourg.  I  got  on  very 
nicely  until  I  left  the  train  here  and  discovered  that 
I  was  not  expected.  The  hotel  omnibus  had  not 
come  for  me,  and  I  own  I  felt  a  trifle  disconcerted 
when  a  sleepy  porter  put  me  and  my  traps  into 
a  little  open  fiacre,  and  told  me  that  the  hotel 
was  more  than  a  mile  distant. 

"A  city  at  midnight  is  always  dreary,  and  as  our 
road  led  us  under  a  railway  bridge,  past  long  rows 
of  closed  shops,  and  tall,  newly  built,  cheap  apart- 
ment houses,  Ville-de-Plaisir  belied  its  name. 
We  mounted  steadily  an  easy  slope,  our  faces 
turned  northward  toward  the  hills.  These 
showed  dark  against  the  starlit  sky  as  we  at  last 
came  out  into  the  open,  where  small  villas  replaced 
the  blocks  of  houses.  The  road  still  sloped  up- 
ward. To  our  right  a  great  building  surmounted 
by  a  graceful  tower  loomed  above  us.  The  driver 
pointed  with  his  whip. 

"'St.  Joseph,'  he  said;  'a  monastery,  yes.' 
Then,  in  answer  to  my  question:  'Four  monks, 
only,  are  allowed  to  remain.  They  tend  the 
graves  in  the  cemetery,'  again  he  pointed.  '  Voi- 
la!'  But  in  the  faint  light  I  could  hardly  distin- 
guish the  row  of  tombs  at  one  side. 

"Dominating  the  monastery,  in  the  midst  of  the 

[36] ' 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


valley  that  we  were  following,  rose  a  wooded 
knoll.  Again  the  driver  pointed  upward.  'Hotel 
du  Jardin!'  he  said,  and,  cracking  his  whip, 
turned  sharply  in  at  an  entrance  gate — an  Italian 
entrance,  Alicia,  although  in  France!  Flat-sided 
pillars  of  masonry,  supporting  a  narrow  flat  roof. 
(I  can't  think  of  another  name.  But  you  have 
seen  many.) 

"We  turned  up  a  steep  hill.  To  our  left  an  olive 
orchard,  to  our  right  a  high  stone  wall  built  against 
a  steep  bank  which  was  surmounted  by  a  seeming- 
ly endless  row  of  magnificent  cypress  trees,  their 
beautiful  points  showing  clearly  against  the  sky. 
I  cried  out  in  admiration,  and  asked  if  there  were 
a  walk  beneath  them.  The  driver  did  not  answer 
but,  glancing  at  me  over  his  shoulder  and  then  up 
toward  the  trees  as  though  fearful  that  some  one 
might  be  lurking  there,  whipped  up  his  horse  so 
sharply  that  we  tore  up  the  hill  at  a  mad  pace. 
Arrived  at  the  top  he  pulled  it  up  as  sharply  and, 
letting  the  poor  beast  walk,  turned  to  me. 

"'Mademoiselle  demands  if  there  is  a  walk  be- 
neath the  cypresses?'  He  lowered  his  voice  to 
almost  a  whisper.  '  But  yes,  there  is  a  walk — the 
Monk's  Walk  some  call  it!' 

"'Do  the  monks  from  the  monastery  walk 
there  ?'  I  inquired. 

[37] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"The  man  stared  at  me  in  a  frightened  way, 
then,  shaking  his  head,  he  again  whipped  up  the 
horse  and  we  sped  along  the  avenue  toward  the 
hotel.  I  called  out  another  question,  asking  if  the 
walk  were  thought  to  be  haunted,  but  I  received 
no  reply. 

"I  had  time  to  see  that  we  were  upon  a  plateau, 
the  land  sloping  down  on  every  side,  before  we  drew 
up  at  the  entrance  of  the  hotel.  The  long  white 
facade  showed  ghostly  in  the  starlight.  Not  a 
light  was  to  be  seen  in  any  of  its  windows.  The 
driver  got  down  and  I  got  out.  My  luggage  was 
placed  on  the  steps,  the  man  rang  the  bell,  and 
then  we  waited,  and  waited,  and  waited!  Again 
and  again  he  rang,  but  no  one  came. 

"The  noise  of  our  carriage  had  set  all  the  dogs 
in  the  valley  barking;  the  splendid  trees  of  the 
avenue  rustled  softly  in  the  faint  night  wind;  save 
for  these,  not  a  sound.  I  began  to  grow  very  un- 
easy. The  driver  cursed  the  hotel,  its  owner, 
the  servants,  and  the  lateness  of  the  hour;  and  he 
was  suggesting  that  I  should  return  to  the  town 
and  seek  a  night's  lodging  there,  when  we  heard 
the  sound  of  a  horse's  trot  on  the  hard  road  far 
below.  The  cabman,  curious  to  know  where  this 
other  night-bird  might  be  flitting,  stopped  ringing. 
I  listened,  too.  Presently  I  heard  the  carriage 

[38] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


coming  up  the  hill  beneath  the  cypresses,  and  in  a 
few  moments  it  became  visible,  approaching  along 
the  avenue.  My  driver  fervently  thanked  Heaven; 
here  was  some  one  who  would  admit  Mademoi- 
selle. 

"The  carriage  was  a  little  fiacre  like  mine,  and 
its  occupant  was  a  young  man  who  was  returning, 
so  he  told  me,  from  the  opera.  He  was  very 
polite,  and  very  good-looking;  of  middle  height, 
with  long  dark  eyes,  an  aquiline  nose,  and  in- 
tensely black  hair.  When  he  smiled  his  teeth 
gleamed  white  under  his  small  black  mustache. 
His  voice  was  pleasant,  soft  and  persuasive.  A 
very  curious  voice,  Alicia,  a  truly  foreign  voice, 
so  gentle,  and  yet,  underneath,  so  cold !  I  had  the 
odd  feeling  that  the  courtesy  shown  me  was  merely 
an  inheritance  of  manner,  the  result  of  genera- 
tions of  trained  forebears,  and  not  the  expression 
of  a  kindly  desire  to  be  of  use. 

"But  Monsieur  de  Noiraud  did  not  have  to  look 
after  me,  for  even  as  he  stepped  toward  the  door 
it  opened,  and  a  sleepy,  half-dressed  porter  ap- 
peared. De  Noiraud  spoke  to  him,  placing  me 
in  his  charge,  and  the  underlying  coldness  in  his 
voice  came  to  the  surface  as  he  did  so.  It  was  as 
though  he  could  not  shake  me  off  rapidly  enough 
and  withdraw.  Indeed,  he  backed,  hat  in  hand, 

[39] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


into  the  hotel  and  disappeared,  and  I  was  left 
with  cabman  and  porter  on  the  steps. 

"But  the  porter  was  thoroughly  satisfactory. 
He  took  possession  of  me  and  mine  with  a  strong 
yet  courteous  hand,  showing  such  firmness  in 
regard  to  the  cab-fare  that  the  driver  dared  not 
charge  too  heavily. 

"'I  am  Hubert,'  he  said,  bowing  low  as  I  en- 
tered, ea  votre  service,  Mademoiselle!'  and  pick- 
ing up  the  candle  that  he  had  left  flaring  just 
inside  the  door,  he  bowed  again,  smiling  ingra- 
tiatingly. 

"He  looked  strange  enough!  A  broad,  stocky 
man,  with  a  large,  bullet-shaped  head,  very  bald, 
little  twinkling  black  eyes,  a  little  snub  nose,  and 
the  most  cheerful  expression  imaginable.  His 
bare  feet  were  thrust  into  slippers  down  at  the 
heel,  and  his  trousers  had  evidently  been  hurriedly 
pulled  on  over  his  night-shirt,  which  was  open  at 
the  throat,  disclosing  his  hairy  chest.  But  there 
was  such  an  air  of  kindliness  and  good-nature 
about  him  that  I  liked  him  at  once. 

"The  hall  was  large,  very  lofty,  and  very 
white,  the  ceiling  supported  by  tall  white  pillars. 
There  were  palms  in  pots,  busts  on  high  pedestals, 
much  rattan  furniture.  Hubert  held  his  candle 
high,  its  flickering  light  barely  illuminated  the  vast 

[40] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


place.  It  looked  desolate  enough  in  the  pale  glim- 
mer; the  pillars  showed  like  tall  spectres,  the 
busts — of  ugly,  fat-faced  men — seemed  to  be  mak- 
ing grimaces.  I  shivered  involuntarily. 

"'Mademoiselle  is  cold  ?'  the  porter  asked  anx- 
iously. 'Tis  true,  the  night  is  chill,  and  Made- 
moiselle is  fatigued.'  He  stood  still,  frowning  as 
if  perplexed,  then  turning  to  me  with  a  beaming 
smile  he  informed  me  that  he  did  not  know  just 
where  to  put  me  for  the  night,  but,  doubtless,  he 
could  find  a  room. 

"He  bowed  me  to  the  staircase,  which  was  at 
one  side  of  the  hall,  or  fumoiry  as  it  is  called, 
and  we  mounted  two  long  flights,  Hubert  lament- 
ing that  the  ' ascenseur'  was  not  running,  the 
electricity  being  always  turned  off  the  hotel  at 
twelve  o'clock.  Arrived  at  the  top  he  led  me 
along  a  broad  corridor,  and  stopping  before  a  door 
tried  it  cautiously.  It  was  locked.  Crossing  the 
hall  he  tried  a  second  door.  This  opened,  dis- 
closing several  trunks  standing  about  as  though 
just  placed  there.  The  porter  wrinkled  up  his 
forehead  despairingly.  'Where  then?'  I  heard 
him  mutter.  He  stood  still  for  an  instant  plunged 
in  thought,  and  I  suggested  that  some  room  must 
have  been  engaged  for  me,  as  Mademoiselle 
Cryden  expected  me.  But  he  shook  his  head. 

[41] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"'I  know  nothing/  he  said,  'and  I  must  not  in- 
trude upon  these  sleepers,  Mademoiselle,'  he 
waved  his  candle  toward  the  rows  of  closed  doors. 
Again  he  meditated.  After  a  moment  he  cried, 
'Come,  then,'  and  with  many  apologies  asked  me 
to  descend  the  flights  of  stairs. 

"Arrived  in  the/wmo/r,  he  crossed  it  and  opened 
a  door  that  led  into  a  very  narrow  corridor.  'The 
old  villa,  Villa  Fenice,'  he  explained  as  we  trav- 
ersed its  length  and  came  out  into  a  small  hall  in 
which  stood  a  billiard-table.  We  then  turned  into 
a  second  hall,  or  vestibule,  and  mounted  a  blind 
staircase  leading  up  between  walls  painted  strange- 
ly; here  and  there  a  huge  bird,  a  peacock,  then 
a  cockatoo,  while  above,  as  frieze,  were  medal- 
lions, women's  heads. 

"The  porter  paused  at  the  top  of  the  first  flight 
before  a  double  door,  and  saying  timidly,  'I  think 
you  will  be  comfortable  here,  Mademoiselle,' 
ushered  me  into  the  room  in  which  I  am  now 
writing,  and  in  which  I  am  determined  that  I  will 
not  spend  another  night. 

"At  the  first  glance  I  exclaimed  at  the  size  of 
the  room,  so  large,  so  stately,  with  vaulted  ceiling, 
and  windows  in  deep  recesses.  I  looked  admir- 
ingly about  me.  Hubert  set  his  guttering  candle 
down  upon  the  centre-table  and  busied  himself 

[42] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


lighting  the  two  that  had  been  placed  near  the 
two  beds  that  were  ranged  side  by  side.  Then  he 
drew  the  curtains,  turned  down  the  covers  of  one 
of  the  beds,  and,  bowing  low,  prepared  to  depart. 

"'But  I  am  so  hungry,  Hubert!'  I  cried,  for  I 
was  famished,  having  eaten  nothing  for  hours. 
'Do  you  think  you  could  get  me  something  to  eat  ? 
A  piece  of  bread  would  do — anything!' 

"He  rubbed  his  head,  looking  miserable. 
'Please  try,'  I  begged. 

"He  caught  up  his  candle.  'I  will,  Made- 
moiselle, he  said,  and  disappeared. 

"I  examined  the  room.  There  was  another  door 
which  opened  into  a  second  room,  half  the  size  of 
that  given  me.  I  peeped  in  cautiously  only  to 
be  frightened  by  the  sight  of  my  own  pale,  travel- 
stained  face,  staring  at  me  from  the  depths  of 
a  mirror  hanging  opposite.  I  closed  the  door 
quickly;  I  could  not  lock  it,  there  was  no  key. 
I  felt  scared,  and  uncomfortable,  and  very  cold. 
There  was  no  fire  in  the  white  stove  that  stood  in 
the  chimney-piece,  and  I  knew  that  it  was  too 
late  to  ask  for  one.  I  walked  briskly  up  and 
down  the  great  room,  hoping  that  I  might  feel 
warmer  after  I  had  had  something  to  eat,  and  lis- 
tening eagerly  for  the  sound  of  Hubert's  returning 
footsteps. 

[43] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"It  seemed  hours  before  he  came.  When  he 
did  appear  he  brought  a  wretched  meal.  On  a 
battered  kitchen  tray  was  a  cracked  cup  overflow- 
ing with  luke-warm  tea,  while  two  pieces  of  very 
stale  bread  had  been  tucked  into  its  saucer.  Poor 
Hubert  looked  so  cast  down  over  his  ill  success 
that  I  did  my  best  to  pretend  that  the  food  pleased 
me.  As  he  set  the  tray  down  upon  the  centre- 
table  the  teaspoon  fell  off  with  a  tinkling  sound, 
and  from  the  vaulted  ceiling  came  an  echo.  The 
porter  started  and  glanced  nervously  about  the 
room,  his  little  twinkling  eyes  scanning  every  cor- 
ner. Then  he  looked  up  at  the  ceiling  as  if  it 
might  be  about  to  repeat  the  sound — and  it  did! 
I  think  I  must  have  leaned  against  the  table  and 
jogged  the  tray,  for  the  same  clear,  tinkling  echo 
came  again.  Hubert,  smiling  pallidly,  backed 
toward  the  door,  but  I  somehow  had  a  desire 
that  he  should  stay. 

"The  ceiling  is  painted  with  cupids;  the  walls 
ornamented  with  a  frieze  of  plaster  wreaths  and 
loopings,  with  the  plaster  head  of  a  cowled  monk 
on  one  side,  and  the  cherubic  face  of  a  child  on 
the  other. 

"I  began  to  converse  about  the  room,  and 
pointing  to  the  ceiling  and  the  frieze,  I  admired 
their  artistic  merits.  In  answer  to  my  questions  I 

[44] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


learned  that  the  great  apartment  had  been  the 
salon  of  the  villa;  but  with  each  reply  Hubert 
drew  nearer  the  door,  and  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity wished  me  'bon  repos'  and  gained  his  free- 
dom. 

"Left  alone,  I  undressed  as  quickly  as  I  could, 
munching  the  dry  bread  while  I  made  my  hasty 
preparations  for  the  night.  As  I  blew  out  my 
candle,  and  jumped  into  bed,  I  must  have  set  the 
tray  jarring,  for  once  again  the  ceiling  sent  down 
that  tinkling  echo.  I  don't  know  why,  but  it 
terrified  me,  and  I  was  guilty  of  drawing  the  bed- 
clothes over  my  head  like  a  frightened  child.  I 
did  not  want  to  hear  the  sound  again. 

"Despite  my  fears  I  fell  asleep  instantly.  I 
was  so  tired,  but,  Alicia,  I  did  not  sleep  long.  I 
waked  with  a  start  from  a  most  hateful  nightmare. 
I  dreamed  that  a  cowled  monk  was  fighting  with  a 
gentleman  in  old-time  dress  (blue  coat  with 
bright  buttons,  his  neck  enveloped  in  one  of  those 
old-fashioned  silk  ties  that  one  sees  in  miniatures 
painted  in  the  1820*5  or  '3o's);  I  could  not  see 
the  face  of  the  old  gentleman,  for  his  back  was 
toward  me,  and  the  monk's  face  was  hidden  by 
his  cowl,  but  I  felt  that  they  were  fighting  to  the 
death.  And  suddenly  there  came — in  my  dream 
—a  pistol  shot;  the  old  man  fell,  and  the  monk, 

[45] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


rushing  to  the  door  that  leads  into  the  next  room, 
disappeared. 

"  I  dreamed  I  knew  that  the  priest  had  shot  his 
adversary,  and  I  also  knew  that  no  one  would 
ever  believe  this,  that  the  old  man  would  be 
thought  a  suicide.  It  seemed  to  me  that  after  a 
horrid  space  of  time — that  crumpled-up  figure 
all  the  while  lying  on  the  floor — there  came  a  bat- 
tering upon  the  double  doors  leading  into  the 
hall,  and  that  these  presently  gave  way,  admitting 
a  crowd  of  men  led  by  gendarmes.  I  tried  to  tell 
the  true  story  of  the  death,  but  in  vain.  They 
would  not  listen.  I  made  a  great  effort — and 
woke,  crying  out  I  don't  know  what. 

"The  room  was  pitchy  dark.  I  thought  I  would 
strike  a  match  and  light  my  candle,  that  I  might 
dispel  the  horror  of  my  dream.  But,  Alicia,  I 
dared  not.  I  felt  that  I  was  not  alone;  the  great 
spaces  of  the  room  seemed  instinct  with  some 
unseen  presence.  It  was  in  vain  that  I  tried  to 
imagine  that  some  servant,  out  too  late,  had  lost 
his  way  and  stumbled  in,  his  pass-key  serving  to 
unlock  my  door.  Feebly,  timidly,  I  asked,  'Who 
is  there  ?'  and  the  silence  that  followed  hurt,  it  was 
so  intense.  Then  I  tried  to  find  comfort  (!)  in 
thinking  that  a  thief  had  crawled  in,  some  way  or 
other,  and  was  in  hiding.  For  a  thief  would  have 

[46] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


been  a  fellow-creature,  a  human  being,  a  some- 
thing very  different  from  that  indescribable  at- 
mosphere, an  atmosphere  which  chilled  my  blood, 
sapped  my  courage,  and  held  me  down. 

"I  could  not  sleep  again,  but  lay  there,  listen- 
ing miserably  to  a  silence  that  was  an  agony  to  the 
ear. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  else  to  describe  what  I  en- 
dured, but  I  do  know  that  I  shall  refuse  to  re- 
peat the  experience. 

"  The  room  looks  attractive  in  the  morning  light, 
with  its  gayly  painted  ceiling  (from  which  just 
now  I  strove  in  vain  to  call  an  echo!),  its  warm- 
hued  carpet,  curtains,  and  furniture  covers. 

"From  the  deeply  recessed  windows  one  looks 
down  upon  a  wonderful  garden — an  Italian  gar- 
den— and  across  the  garden  to  the  distant,  two 
miles  distant,  blue  waters  of  the  Mediterranean. 
The  sun  shines  brightly.  The  orange  and  lemon 
trees  are  heavy  with  their  golden  fruit.  Many 
flowers  are  abloom.  Can  it  be  early  December  ? 

"  I  am  more  than  sorry  to  have  begun  with  dis- 
agreeables. In  my  next  letter  I  will  tell  you  of 
Winifred,  of  the  garden,  of  my  new  duties.  (I 
wonder,  I  wonder  what  they  are  to  be  ?) 

"It  is  7  A.  M.  I  am  dreadfully  hungry,  but  I  feel 
I  must  not  ring  for  breakfast  so  early. 

[47] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Dear  me,  what  an  interminable  letter!  But 
what  a  comfort  it  has  been  to  me  to  write  it! 
You  are  always,  you  have  been  always,  such  a 
•thorough-going  comfort  to 

"Your  loving 

"NELLY." 


U8] 


VI 

"A  lady,  young,  tall,  beautiful,  strange  and  sad. 
'Is  she  not  fair?     'Tis  my  new  cousin.' ' 

MISS  WINIFRED  CRYDEN  heard  with 
regret  the  manner  of  her  young  cousin's 
arrival.  She  had,  in  her  mind's  eye,  seen  every- 
thing happening  otherwise,  and,  being  a  very  obsti- 
nate person,  she  determined  that  the  Fates  should 
not  thus  alter  her  plans.  So  she  paid  an  early 
visit  to  her  "new  cousin,"  as  she  had  dubbed 
Elinor,  because  they  had  never  met  before,  and 
tapped  at  the  girl's  door  at  nine  o'clock. 

The  greeting  between  the  two  had  that  curious 
mingling  of  familiarity  and  stiffness  that  generally 
marks  a  meeting  between  relatives  who,  owing 
to  circumstance,  have  remained  strangers.  Each 
surveyed  the  other  with  a  deep  interest  which 
neither  sought  to  conceal.  They  were  to  be  close 
companions  for  some  months.  An  unbiased  out- 
sider might  have  felt  doubt  as  to  the  wisdom  of 
the  arrangement. 

[49] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Miss  Cryden  had  a  great  deal  of  manner.  Al- 
though hard  on  sixty  she  affected  the  sprightly 
vivacity  of  a  volatile  girl,  and  she  endeavored  to 
ward  off  the  advance  of  years  by  every  means 
possible.  Her  hair  was  colored  with  a  Titianesque 
dye,  that  the  mixture  of  gray  in  the  once  brown 
locks  might  not  be  visible,  while  her  eyebrows 
were  heavily  pencilled  with  black.  The  wrinkles 
on  cheeks  and  brow  were  almost  blotted  out  by 
nightly  massage  and  the  daily  application  of  some 
unguent  known  to  her  well-instructed  French 
maid.  Miss  Cryden  had  kept  her  figure;  she 
was  upright  and  slender — graceful  she  had  never 
been.  Despite  her  age  and  "the  adulteries  of 
art,"  she  was  still  a  pretty  woman.  She  would 
have  been  far  prettier  had  she  left  herself  as 
nature  willed. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  women  was 
sharply  defined  in  this  hour  of  meeting.  Elinor's 
late  misfortunes  had  lent  an  air  of  sadness  to  her 
gentle  dignity  of  bearing,  which  gave  her,  be- 
cause of  her  youth,  a  strangely  pathetic  charm. 
The  girl  looked  wistfully  into  the  eyes  of  the  elder 
woman,  seeking  some  expression  of  intelligent  sym- 
pathy. But  she  saw  only  inquisitiveness,  the  hard 
interest  of  a  buyer  scanning  a  doubtful  purchase; 
and  the  gratitude  that  she  felt  toward  this  cousin 

[50] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


was  forced  back  into  her  heart.  She  obliged  her- 
self to  thank  Miss  Cryden,  however,  telling  that 
lady  how  much  the  change  of  scene  meant  to  her, 
and  saying  frankly  how  glad  she  was  to  learn  by 
degrees  to  readjust  herself  to  her  changed  circum- 
stances. 

Later  she  wrote  to  Mrs.  Carme  of  this  first  in- 
terview; but  although  she  kept  her  word  in  regard 
to  telling  the  disagreeables  that  she  encountered, 
she  was  careful  to  avoid  writing  of  her  own  sadness 
of  heart,  of  her  sense  of  desolation,  of  her  almost 
passionate  homesickness.  She  was  naturally  un- 
selfish and  brave,  and  Mrs.  Carme  had  encouraged 
these  virtues. 

"HOTEL  DU  JASDIN, 

"VILLA  FENICE, 
"  VILLE-DE-PLAISIR,  FRANCE. 

"DEAR  ALICIA: 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  letter.  It  came  yesterday, 
and  it  was  like  a  draught  of  refreshing  water  to 
a  thirsty  traveller.  It  is  good  of  you  to  say  you 
will  write  once  a  week.  Thank  you  a  thousand 
times ! 

"Winifred  is  just  as  you  described  her,  both  in 
appearance  and  manner.  I  do  not  know  yet  why 
she  invited  me  here.  Not  because  she  needs  my 
society,  of  that  I  am  sure.  You  insist  that  she 

[51] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


will  demand  her  pound  of  flesh,  but  I  want  to 
believe  that  she  is — away  down  at  the  bottom  of 
her  heart — both  charitable  and  kind.  I  hope 
this  may  be  so.  Unfortunately  you  are  almost 
always  so  provokingly  right,  Alicia! 

"She  came  in  to  see  me  soon  after  I  had  finished 
writing  to  you,  and  said  I  must  change  my  room 
at  once.  As  she  did  not  wish  any  one  to  know 
of  my  late  arrival,  *  disreputable  arrival/  she 
called  it,  she  made  me  put  on  several  veils,  which 
she  had  brought  for  that  purpose,  and  envelop  my- 
self in  a  long  cloak.  Then,  with  many  hidings, 
drawings  back  into  corners,  scuttlings  when  the 
coast  was  clear,  and  breathless  darts  and  dashes, 
she  led  me  up  the  second  flight  of  the  steep,  old- 
fashioned,  painted  staircase,  and  through  a  long, 
narrow  corridor,  up  several  steps  into  the  broad 
upper  hall  of  the  main  hotel  (whither  I  had 
mounted  the  previous  night  with  Hubert),  and 
to  a  corner  room  at  the  very  end. 

"'This  is  a  northeast  room,  Elinor/  she  said,  as 
she  almost  pushed  me  in  and  closed  the  door.  'I 
have  told  everybody  that  you  are  like  the  late 
Queen  (Victoria,  you  know),  and  prefer  a  north 
room.  Otherwise  people  might  have  thought  it 
queer,  you  being  such  an  heiress,  you  know/ 
She  laughed  very  peculiarly.  I  remembered  that 

[5*] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


south  rooms  were  more  expensive  on  the  Riviera, 
but  it  was  not  of  this,  I  am  sure,  that  Winifred 
was  thinking  when  she  laughed. — 'The  room  is 
heated,  as  you  see,'  she  continued,  pointing  to  the 
coil  of  pipes  in  one  corner,  'and  the  view  is  rav- 
issante.' 

"  It  is  ravishing.  Directly  under  my  north  win- 
dow is  the  plateau,  with  its  great  trees,  and  be- 
yond, the  crests  of  the  near-by  hills;  while  from 
the  eastern  window  one  looks  away  and  away 
across  the  intervening  valleys  to  the  mountains  of 
the  coast  line,  where  goes  curving  and  climbing 
the  old  Corniche  road.  Below  the  window  is  a 
steeply  terraced  olive  orchard.  The  trees  are 
beautiful;  their  great  trunks  gnarled  and  old, 
their  gray-green  leaves  shimmering  like  silver  in 
the  sunshine.  Winifred  pointed  out,  on  a  plateau 
across  the  valley,  the  hotel  where  Queen  Victoria 
stayed  during  her  spring-time  visits  here.  That 
is  now  the  fashionable  suburb  of  Ville-de-Plaisir. 

"'I  wish  you  to  appear  properly  this  evening, 
Elinor,'  Winifred  said,  drawing  me  away  from  the 
window,  'so  I  shall  beg  you  to  stay  in  your  room 
until  then.  You  need  a  rest  anyway.  Are  you 
always  so  pale?'  I  explained  that  I  rarely  had 
much  color.  'Well,  perhaps  it  is  all  the  better/ 
she  went  on,  'it  makes  your  fairness  of  skin  more 

[53] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


noticeable.  I  am  sorry  your  hair  is  so  dark,  but 
it  can't  be  helped.  Does  it  wave  naturally,  or  do 
you  make  that?'  I  explained  that  it  waved  nat- 
urally. 'Have  you  a  good  neck  and  arms?'  was 
her  next  question.  'Do  you  look  well  decollete, 
I  mean  ?' 

"'I  am  said  to,'  I  made  answer;  and  then, 
Alicia,  ashamed  of  appearing  conceited,  I  blushed 
furiously. 

"Winifred  clapped  her  hands.  'Brava!'  she 
cried.  'Do  that  as  often  as  you  can,  it  is  vastly 
becoming.  If  only  you  know  how  to  flirt,  you 
will  do  famously.  Can  you  flirt,  ires  chere  ?' 

"I  stared  at  her,  Alicia,  not  knowing  how  to  re- 
ply. 

"'Don't  look  so  stupid,  Elinor/  she  said  quite 
peevishly.  'You  must  know  whether  you  can 
flirt  or  not.  But  perhaps  you  think  I  mean  co- 
quet; I  don't,  I  mean  f,  1,  i,  r,  t,  flirt.  Wait,' 
she  tossed  herself  into  an  arm-chair,  dangling  one 
leg  over  the  arm  and  displaying  a  length  of  black 
silk  stocking  clocked  with  blue,  and  a  little  blue 
kid  slipper  with  a  very  high  heel  and  a  dashy  silver 
buckle  on  its  bow.  She  leaned  her  blonded  head 
against  the  chair  back,  and,  half  closing  her  eyes, 
gave  me  this  definition  of  flirting.  'To  flirt,  if 
you  are  a  woman,  Elinor,  ma  belle  et  jeune  cousine, 

[54] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


means  to  do  your  possible  to  make  the  man  in 
whom  you  happen  for  the  moment  to  be  interested, 
fall  in  love  with  you  ?' 

"And  if  a  man  flirts?'    I  inquired. 

"  She  jumped  up  out  of  her  chair,  an  angry  color 
surging  over  her  face  (yes,  Alicia,  she  is  made 
up,  just  as  you  said  she  was,  but  she  has  a  pretty 
pink  in  her  cheeks  that  is  all  her  own),  well,  up 
she  jumped,  and  going  to  the  bell,  pressed  the  but- 
ton fiercely.  'A  man  who  flirts,'  she  answered 
over  her  shoulder,  'is  the  kind  of  scoundrel  who 
pretends  to  be  in  love  when  he  isn't.  I  abhor 
such  men,  and  I  scorn  them — yes,  I  have  a  per- 
fect contempt  for  them!'  And  the  chambermaid 
coming,  she  sent  for  her  maid,  and  forgot  to  ask 
me  again  if  I  flirted  or  not. 

"This  was  lucky,  for  I  should  have  had  to  con- 
fess that  I  don't  flirt,  and,  what's  more,  won't 
even  try  to  flirt — after  her  fashion. 

"While  waiting  for  her  maid  she  pulled  out  a 
fancy  gold  cigarette  case  and  began  to  smoke. 

"You  are  not  to  do  it  here,'  she  said  (coolly 
taking  it  for  granted  that  I  smoke,  Alicia!)  'and 
if  any  one  asks  if  you  smoke  be  sure  to  say  that 
you  don't.  I  shall  expect  you  to  be  guided  by 
me  while  you  are  my  guest,  Elinor.  Aren't  you 
sometimes  called  Nelly  ? ' 

[55] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Upon  my  saying  that  I  was  she  fell  to  repeat- 
ing the  two  names,  'Elinor,  Nelly;  Nelly,  Elinor;' 
and  so  on,  over  and  over  again,  watching  me  as  she 
did  so,  her  head  on  one  side.  It  was  so  ridiculous 
that  I  could  not  help  laughing,  and  she  stopped. 

"Ah,  now  I  understand,'  she  said.  'When 
you  laugh  you  look  like  a  Nelly,  quite  too  awfully 
jolly,  and  all  that.  When  you  are  grave,  Elinor 
suits  you  down  to  the  ground.  Hum,'  she  medi- 
tated for  an  instant,  'Winifred  and  Elinor,  Winnie 
and  Nelly,  yes,  that  sounds  well.  I  tell  you 
what,  Nelly,  we'll  change  about  with  our  names, 
makes  them  more  piquant.  Oh,  here's  my  maid,' 
as  a  trig  little  Frenchwoman  came  in,  bowing  and 
smiling.  'This  is  Mademoiselle  my  new  cousin, 
Berthe,  Mademoiselle  Ladoon.  She  is  hand- 
some, isn't  she,  Berthe  ?  And  now  to  unpack 
her  things  and  make  her  presentable  for  this 
evening.'  And  the  porter  was  summoned  to 
fetch  my  belongings. 

"  My  scanty  allowance  of  frocks  is  a  great  trial 
to  her,  just  as  I  feared.  'What,'  she  exclaimed, 
holding  up  her  hands — she  wears  quantities  of 
rings,  Alicia,  beautiful  rings — 'only  three  gowns! 
juste  del!  Berthe,  Berthe,  what  shall  we  do?' 

'The  evening  robe  is  charming,'  Berthe  said 
soothingly,  in  her  pretty   Parisian   French,  'and 

[56] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


as  Mademoiselle  is  in  mourning  a  great  variety  is 
not  necessary.' 

"'But  that  is  just  nonsense,  and  you  know  it, 
Berthe,'  Winifred  said  peevishly.  'You  forget 
that  Mademoiselle  is  an  heiress,' — again  she 
laughed  strangely.  (I  do  not  like  this  laugh, 
Alicia;  it  means  something  that  I  don't  under- 
stand.) 'Eh  bien,'  she  continued,  sighing  heavily, 
'we  must  see  that  she  has  a  proper  outfit, that  is  all.' 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  accepting  so  much  from 
her,  Alicia,  and  this  I  told  her  as  plainly. as  civility 
permitted,  speaking  in  English  that  Berthe  might 
not  understand.  But  I  might  as  well  have  tried 
to  'shoot  folly  as  it  flies.'  Not  a  particle  of  at- 
tention did  she  pay  me,  but  flitted  restlessly  hither 
and  thither  among  my  things,  like  a  discontented 
butterfly  in  a  garden  filled  with  uninteresting 
flowers.  Her  many  bracelets  tinkled  as  she 
plucked  at  my  unsatisfactory  toilets,  the  laces 
and  ribbons  of  her  blue  silk  matinee  fluttered. 
Ah,  well,  I  dare  say  she  meant  only  to  be  kind. 
Poor  cousin  Winifred! 

"  I  am  to  sleep  all  day  and  make  my  first  grand 
( ?)  appearance  in  public  this  evening  at  dinner. 
As  you  have  asked  for  minute  descriptions  of  every 
happening,  you  shall  hear  if  this  audience  before 
which  I  am  to  make  my  bow  welcomes  me  with 

[57] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


plaudits,  with  hisses,  or  simply  with  the  usual  in- 
difference bestowed  in  hotels  upon  unimportant 
arrivals.  But  I  forget,  I  am  important,  Winifred 
says. 

'" Listen/  she  said  to  me  solemnly,  'you  are 
eagerly  looked  for  by  every  one,  yes,  everyone. 
For  you  are  not  only  my  new  cousin,  you  are  an 
enormously  rich  American  girl/ 

"I  protested,  but  in  vain. 

"'Did  I,  or  did  I  not,  invite  you  here  as  the 
heiress  of  James  Ladoon  ?' 

"Of  course  she  did,  and  I  had  to  acknowledge  it. 

"'Are  you,  or  are  you  not,  the  heiress  of  James 
Ladoon  ?' 

"Alas,  poor  Uncle  Jim!  But  Winifred  was  in  the 
right.  I  had  accepted  her  invitation  as  she  gave 
it.  And,  after  all,  it  matters  very  little  what  these 
strangers  think. 

"Do  not  dare  to  suggest  again  that  you  will  pay 
the  postage  on  my  letters  to  you.  Try  to  realize 
what  a  comfort  it  is  to  me  to  write  to  you;  it  is 
my  one  luxury,  like  an  old  poorhouse-man's  to- 
bacco, or  an  old  woman's  pinch  of  tea. 

"Your  loving 

"ELINOR,  NELLY;  NELLY,  ELINOR. 
'You  pays  your  money  and  you  takes  your 
choice!"' 

[58] 


VII 

"A  bloom  as  bright  as  opening  morn. 
Suffused  her  clear  white  cheek; 
The  music  of  her  voice  was  mild;" 

ELINOR  stood  before  the  long  mirror  of  her 
armoire,  waiting  patiently  until  Miss  Cry- 
den  and  Miss  Cryden's  maid  should  have  finished 
tweaking  and  smoothing  out  the  train  of  her  even- 
ing gown.  The  dress  was  sufficiently  becoming  to 
content  even  the  hypercritical  Miss  Cryden,  who 
was  so  nervously  excited  over  her  "new  cousin's" 
appearance  that  both  Elinor  and  Berthe  secretly 
wondered. 

The  gown  was  of  dull  black  silk,  trimmed  with 
crepe,  cut  square  at  the  neck,  and  with  sleeves 
that  barely  reached  the  elbow — beautiful  elbows, 
showing  fascinating  dints  and  dimples.  Around 
the  girl's  firm  white  throat  was  clasped  a  string  of 
pearls.  It  was  upon  the  pearls  that  her  eyes  were 
fixed  as  she  regarded  her  reflection  in  the  mirror. 
She  had  wished  to  sell  them,  but  Mrs.  Carme  had 
vetoed  the  wish.  Now  Elinor  was  glad  that  she 
had  listened  to  this  advice.  Pearls,  it  seemed, 

[59] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


were  highly  necessary  for  her  role  as-  heiress. 
She  was  thankful  that  she  had  some  of  the  acces- 
rories  demanded. 

Elinor  was  what  is  called  an  evening  beauty; 
she  became  brilliant  in  the  evening,  the  clear, 
healthful  paleness  of  the  cheeks  gaining  a  rosy 
tint  that  added  lustre  to  her  always  splendid  eyes. 
Miss  Cryden  noting  keenly  each  good  point  pro- 
nounced herself  satisfied,  and,  ranging  herself  be- 
side Elinor,  studied  the  effect  they  produced  to- 
gether. 

Miss  Cryden  wore  what  her  dressmaker  called 
"  a  creation  in  blue,"  a  close-fitting  trailing  dinner- 
gown  of  blue  satin,  the  sleeves  and  open  throat 
ornamented  with  exquisite  point-lace.  A  diamond 
and  emerald  dragon-fly  sparkled  in  the  fashion- 
ably arranged  hair,  and  one  diamond  and  emer- 
ald drop  hung  at  her  throat. 

"Pink  would  have  flung  up  your  gown  better, 
Nelly,"  said  Miss  Cryden  reflectively,  gazing  in 
turn  from  one  image  in  the  looking-glass  to  the 
other,  as  she  might  have  gazed  upon  two  dolls  in 
a  shop  window,  "but  hair  the  color  of  mine  doesn't 
admit  of  red  or  pink.  How  would  a  pink  carnation 
do  in  her  hair,  Berthe  ?"  she  turned  to  her  maid. 

"Please  not,  Winifred,"  Elinor  began  hastily. 

"I  would  rather " 

[60] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"You  don't  want  to  wear  even  a  flower  ?"  Miss 
Cryden  interrupted.  "That's  ridiculous,  Nelly. 
(I  wish  when  I  say  'Nelly,'  you  would  say  'Winnie' 
I  gave  you  your  cue  just  now.  I  want  to  hear 
how  it  sounds.)" 

"A  Roland  for  your  Oliver,  Winnie?"  Elinor 
replied  smiling.  "Forgive  my  stupidity.  I  did 
not  think." 

"Mademoiselle  needs  no  flower  to-night," 
Berthe  said,  her  small  dark  eyes  fixed  upon  her 
mistress.  "Later  perhaps.  To-night  Madame 
de  Noiraud  will  again  wear  the  red  velvet — I  had 
it  from  her  maid." 

"Now  what  do  you  mean  by  that,  Berthe?" 
Miss  Cryden  asked  sharply. 

"But  nothing,"  Berthe  cried  deprecatingly — 
"but  nothing  at  all,  Mademoiselle.  I  thought  at 
the  card-table  perhaps  (Madame  de  Noiraud  plays 
at  cards  so  often  with  Mademoiselle),  the  robe  of 
black,  of  red,  of  blue " 

"  Berthe,  you  are  a  fool,"  was  her  mistress's  com- 
ment, as  with  Elinor  beside  her  she  left  the  room. 

It  was  twelve  o'clock  when  Elinor  re-entered, 
the  hour  when  the  electric  light  ceased  to  be  avail- 
able at  Hotel  du  Jardin,  and  it  was  by  the  light  of 
one  candle  that  she  described  her  first  evening  to 
her  friend. 

1 61] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"HOTEL  DU  JARDIN, 
.  "VILLA  FENICE. 

DEAR  ALICIA: 

"Exactly  at  seven  o'clock  did  the  Misses  Cry- 
den  and  Ladoon  descend  'the  broad  hall  stair M 
How  Winifred  felt  I  cannot  tell  you,  but  that  she 
felt  much  was  almost  painfully  apparent.  I  saw 
her  mouth  twitch  with  excitement  as,  arriving  upon 
the  last  landing  of  the  lower  staircase,  we  came 
in  full  view  of  the  fumoir  and  its  occupants. 
The  place  looked  very  different;  brilliant  with 
electric  light,  and  filled  with  people  in  evening 
dress,  it  had  lost  its  ghost-haunted  appearance  of 
the  previous  evening.  I  saw  that  the  fat  marble 
busts  on  high  pedestals  represented  some  of  the 
Roman  emperors,  but  in  the  full  light  their  fea- 
tures showed  pompous  and  solemn.  It  was  the 
flickering  glimmer  of  Hubert's  candle  that  had 
made  them  play  ugly  tricks. 

"The  staircase  is  broad.  We  descended  these 
last  few  steps  slowly.  I  had  the  curious  sensa- 
tion of  being  on  a  stage  in  a  play,  a  play  in  which, 
unfortunately,  I  did  not  know  my  part.  (That 
something  is  expected  of  me  is  clear  enough.) 
But  I  did  not  care  very  much.  Do  people  ever 
care  very  much  about  anything,  Alicia,  after  the 
lightning  has  struck  ?  Directly  opposite  us,  on 
the  far-away  side  of  the  hall,  a  group  of  people 

[62] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


were  seated  who  watched  our  descent  with  an 
interest  that  might  be  described  as  intense,  an 
interest  that  they  did  not  make  the  slightest 
effort  to  conceal.  It  was  toward  this  group  that 
Winifred  led  me. 

"(Everybody  seemed  on  the  qui  vive,  Alicia, 
some  showing  their  curiosity  by  the  way  in  which 
they  affected  not  to  see  us!  It  was  absurd,  but 
somehow,  I  had  no  disposition  to  laugh.  There 
was  something  so  strange  in  Winifred's  atmosphere 
that  the  sadness  which  now  holds  me  was  deep- 
ened, I  don't  know  why!) 

"As  we  approached  our  goal  I  saw  that  the  group 
was  composed  of  but  three  people — a  black-haired, 
black-eyed,  high-aquiline-nosed,  dark-complex- 
ioned, short  lady,  in  a  red  velvet  gown;  a  black- 
haired,  black-eyed,  dark-complexioned,  snub- 
nosed,  fat,  short,  elderly  gentleman,  in  a  skull 
cap;  and,  the  young  man  of  last  night,  Monsieur 
Ulaszlo  de  Noiraud.  They  were  all  upon  their 
feet  long  before  we  reached  them,  and  I  was 
confronted  by  a  fixed  stare  from  three  pairs  of 
intensely  black  eyes.  Handsome  eyes,  Alicia; 
those  of  the  young  man  flashing  like  black  dia- 
monds. He,  like  Winifred,  was,  I  thought,  ex- 
cited. Indeed,  I  think  that  I  was  the  only  non- 
excited  person  present. 

[63] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"When  it  came  the  turn  of  the  young  man  to 
be  presented — they  are  all  de  Noirauds;  Monsieur 
et  Madame,  aunt  and  uncle  of  Monsieur  Ulaszlo, 
whom  they  call  Laszlo — when  his  turn  came  to 
be  presented  I  gave  every  one  an  electric  shock 
by  smiling  graciously  (as  you  bade  me,  Alicia!) 
and  recounting  our  meeting  at  midnight.  The 
strange  thing  was  that  Monsieur  Laszlo  was  as 
much  startled  as  the  rest,  and  seemed  greatly 
worried,  repeating  over  and  over  again: 

"'If  I  had  but  known!     If  I  had  but  known!' 

"Winifred  gave  me  a  glance  of  mingled  suspicion 
and  reproach,  murmuring  in  English  under  her 
breath  (did  you  know  a  murmur  could  be  sharp, 
Alicia  ?  It  can!),  'Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  You 
have  made  me  look  like  a  fool!' 

"  I  was,  and  am,  very  sorry.  I  forgot  all  about 
him,  so  I  forgot  to  tell  her  of  the  meeting;  I  for- 
got, also,  that  I  was  supposed  to  have  just  arrived. 
Altogether,  I  made  a  mess  of  my  role — whatever 
it  was,  and  is. 

"The  de  Noirauds  speak  French,  Ulaszlo,  only, 
knowing  a  little,  a  very  little,  English.  They  are 
Hungarians;  descendants  of  a  French  count  who 
fled  into  Transylvania,  I  forget  just  when.  They 
are  here  for  the  health  of  Uncle  de  Noiraud,  who 
suffers  from  rheumatism.  Laszlo  is  twenty-six; 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Laszlo  has  been  educated  in  Paris;  Laszlo  is  the 
youngest  of  three  brothers,  but  he  is  the  favorite  of 
his  uncle,  for  whom  he  is  named,  and  who  has  no 
children;  Laszlo  is  a  crack  shot,  a  good  horse- 
man, and  a  beautiful  dancer;  Laszlo  is  of  an 
affectionate  nature  and  of  a  modesty  extreme- 
does  one  ever  hear  him  recounting  his  skill  as  a 
sportsman,  as  a  rider,  as  a  dancer,  as  do  other 
jeunes  messieurs?  Ah,  but  never! 

"All  this  was  told  me  by  Madame  de  Noiraud 
while  Monsieur  Laszlo  was  being  button-holed  by 
a  group  of  ladies  who  had  made  a  dash  at  and 
surrounded  him  on  his  exit  from  the  dining-room. 

"Winifred  and  I  had  a  little  table  to  ourselves 
in  the  dining-room;  all  the  families  had  little  tables 
to  themselves;  sometimes  a  family  consisting  of 
one  lady  had  its  little  table  to  itself.  I  think  the 
old  long  table-d'hote  was  much  more  entertaining. 
I  remember  when  Uncle  Jim  first  brought  me  to 
Europe  there  were  some  left — that  was  ten  years 
ago!  What  a  crazily  jolly  little  creature  I  was 
then,  Alicia!  I  remember  how  nice  every  one 
was  to  me,  how  they  petted  me  and  chatted  with 
me.  Well,  I  have  no  cause  to  complain;  they  are 
doing  the  same  thing  now,  but  it  is  because  of 
supposititious  wealth,  and  I  am  no  longer  crazily, 
or  any  other  kind  of  jolly. 

[65] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"The  dining-rooms — there  are  two,  one  opening 
out  of  the  other — are  charmingly  bright,  with 
mirrors,  gay  red  and  white  curtains,  and  flowers 
on  every  table.  There  is  much  talking  done,  peo- 
ple shouting  remarks  from  one  table  to  another, 
and  this  I  think  tiresome;  it  is  so  hard  to  hear, 
and  when  those  behind  Winifred  speak  to  her, 
it  seems  always  to  happen  when  her  mouth  is  full, 
for  of  course  they  cannot  see  that  she  has  just 
taken  a  bite. 

"There  is  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  salon,  with  a 
painted  vaulted  ceiling  and  formal  furnishings. 
It  is  in  the  old  Villa  Fenice,  and  has  two  windows 
looking  on  the  garden.  We  sat  there  in  the  even- 
ing and  played  bridge,  Winifred  and  the  fat  old 
Comte  de  Noiraud,  Monsieur  Ulaszlo  and  I. 
Madame  de  Noiraud  sat  hard  by,  knitting,  her 
unwavering  gaze  fixed  most  of  the  time  upon  me, 
for  she  knits  as  you  do,  Alicia,  without  looking  on. 
The  young  man  was  bent  upon  pleasing  me;  this 
was  so  evident  that  had  he  not  been  so  handsome, 
and  well-mannered,  and  really  cold,  it  would  have 
been  ridiculous.  But  his  good  looks,  and  his 
underlying  coldness,  saved  the  day.  A  young, 
fresh-hearted  girl,  in  her  teens,  might  have  fan- 
cied that  she  had  made  a  quick  conquest,  but  not 
a  disillusioned  woman  like  me. 

[66] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"To  use  slang,  he  is  evidently  going  in  for  me, 
and  Winifred  is  flinging  me  at  his  head.  Not 
openly;  no,  she  is  doing  it  very  well.  I  think 
that  the  de  Noirauds  have  no  idea  of  it.  She  was 
unhappy  and  excited,  concealing  these  feelings 
under  the  cloak  of  girlish  vivacity  that  she  affects. 
How  do  I  know  that  she  was  unhappy  and  ex- 
cited ?  You  know  I  almost  always  know,  Alicia ! 
I  wish  that  I  did  not  feel  atmosphere  so  plainly. 
But  such  a  strange  idea  has  come  into  my  head 
in  regard  to  Winifred  that,  as  yet,  I  dare  not  con- 
fide it  to  you.  It  is  monstrous,  incredible — and 
yet ? 

"I  will  finish  this  to-morrow.  Good-night;  my 
dear,  good-night!" 

Elinor  rose  from  the  table,  blew  out  the  candle, 
and  going  to  the  window  looked  out  into  the 
night.  The  line  of  mountains  showed  soft  against 
the  starlit  sky — velvety  shapes,  splendidly  repose- 
ful, unconscious  of  the  woes  of  mankind.  Far 
below  the  window  the  leaves  of  the  topmost 
branches  of  the  olive-trees  stirred  softly;  high 
overhead  sparkled  the  stars.  It  was  all  so  beau- 
tiful, so  serene,  but,  to  the  girl  in  the  window,  so 
unutterably  sad.  She  thought  of  her  renegade 
lover,  for  whom  she  had  had  so  true  an  affection, 

[67] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


and  she  wondered  if  one  did  not  suffer  more  from 
a  dying  affection  than  from  a  crossed  passion,  for 
she  realized  that  she  had  not  been  what  is  called 
in  love.  But  without  Maynard  and  her  uncle  it 
was  to  her  as  though  the  firm  earth  had  been 
cut  away  from  under  her  feet.  She  told  herself 
that  she  had  nothing  to  live  for,  she  was  but  an 
added  care  to  her  much-loved  friend,  Mrs.  Carme. 
She  stared  blankly  across  the  dusky  spaces  of  the 
night. 

"I  wish,"  she  whispered  brokenly,  "oh,  I  wish 
that  I  were  dead!" 


[68] 


VIII 

".   .   .  I  saw  enter,  stand,  and  seat  herself 

A  lady,  young,  tall,  beautiful,  strange,  and  sad. 

.  .  .  she  turned, 

Looked  our  way,  smiled  the  beautiful,  sad,  strange  smile. 
'Is  she  not  fair?     'Tis  my  new  cousin,'  said — — •" 

WHILE  Elinor  was  writing  her  letter,  Mon- 
sieur Ulaszlo  de  Noiraud  was  employed  in 
the  same  fashion.  He  wrote  to  his  first  cousin,  a 
certain  Comte  Matyas  de  Folatre,  the  son  of  a 
sister  of  Comte  de  Noiraud,  who  had  married  a 
Frenchman  and  lived  in  France.  Matyas  was 
older  by  four  years  than  Ulaszlo;  he  had,  two 
years  before,  bettered  his  fortunes  by  marrying  a 
rich  English  girl,  whom  he  left  in  his  lonely  old 
chateau  while  he  enjoyed  her  dowry  in  Paris. 
Of  this  Ulaszlo  did  not  approve.  He  thought  that 
the  wife  should  have  been  allowed  to  accompany 
her  husband  and  permitted  to  enjoy  some  of  the 
gayeties  of  town.  It  was  always  sufficiently  easy 
to  keep  one's  own  amusements  in  the  background; 
the  presence  of  a  wife  did  not  at  all  oblige  one  to 

[69] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


relinquish  one's  pleasures;  one  had  to  hide  them, 
voila  tout! 

Ulaszlo,  also,  was  writing — as  was  Elinor — by 
candle-light.  His  face  in  its  perfect  repose  was 
very  handsome,  clear-cut,  immobile,  strange. 
There  was  about  it  what  the  French  describe  as 
une  froideur  lumineuse,  a  luminous  coldness. 
The  Transylvanian  held  his  pen  idly,  but  with  a 
careless  firmness  which  denoted  great  strength, 
while  he  stared  toward  his  window,  through  which, 
because  of  the  lighted  candle  close  before  him, 
he  could  not  see.  But  if  he  had  been  able  to 
look  from  his  writing-table  out  into  the  night,  he 
would  not  have  noted  the  beauty  of  the  long  row 
of  cypresses  whose  exquisite  tops  pointed,  like 
warning  fingers,  upward,  toward  heaven. 

The  window  was  in  a  corner  room  of  the  Villa 
Fenice,  the  entire  length  of  the  house  from  that  of 
the  "new  cousin,"  the  American  girl.  From  the 
window  one  might  almost  look  down  into  the 
long  aisle  of  the  Monk's  Walk;  almost,  but  not 
quite,  because  the  Monk's  Walk  lay  the  depth  of 
a  steep  bank  below  the  garden  of  the  villa.  Yet 
the  cypresses,  in  their  magnificent  growth,  had 
long  since  lifted  their  spires  high  above  both  the 
steep  bank  and  the  magnolias  and  orange-trees 
of  the  garden. 

[70] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Ulaszlo  held  his  pen  idly  for  a  few  moments, 
then  wrote  that  the  uncle  and  aunt  were  well, 
and  that  the  American  girl  had  arrived.  Reach- 
ing this  point  the  writer  leaned  back  in  his  chair 
and  meditated.  Should  he  tell  Matyas  of  the 
midnight  meeting,  the  really  first  meeting  ?  He 
concluded  that  he  would  not.  Matyas  would  fail 
to  understand  the  ways  of  American  girls;  Mat- 
yas would  probably  think  that  so  strange  a  pro- 
ceeding as  travelling  by  herself  through  a  foreign 
land,  and  arriving  alone  at  a  hotel  at  midnight, 
must  mean  laxity  of  morals.  It  was,  indeed, 
Ulaszlo  thought,  a  most  peculiar  proceeding. 
The  girl  had  looked  so  quietly  composed,  and 
had  appeared  almost  haughtily  unconscious  of 
there  being  anything  compromising  in  the  situa- 
tion, alone  with  him — as  though  by  arrangement, 
truly — on  his  return  from  the  opera!  She  had 
not  been  in  the  least  abashed,  but  had  asked  his 
assistance  without  embarrassment.  He  fell  to 
wishing  that  he  had  given  it  more  warmly.  What 
would  an  American  gentleman  have  done  in  like 
circumstance  ?  But  his  imagination  was  unequal 
to  this  herculean  task,  and  he  took  up  his  pen 
and  recommenced  writing. 

He  described  Elinor  fully,  dwelling  particularly 
upon  the  beauty  of  her  figure  and  regretting  that 

[71] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


she  was  exactly  his  height.  He  would  have  pre- 
ferred, so  he  wrote,  that  Mademoiselle  Ladoon 
should  have  been  more  petite,  since  a  man  looked 
better  when  appearing  with  a  woman  less  tall 
than  himself;  and  he  expressed  his  belief  that 
Elinor  was  older  than  Mademoiselle  Cryden  had 
said,  adding  that  women  were  always  terribly 
rusee  where  age  was  concerned.  Upon  the  beauty 
of  Elinor's  eyes,  the  fairness  of  her  skin,  the 
sweetness  of  her  voice  and  the  graciousness  of  her 
manner  he  commented  with  satisfaction. 

"But  I  regret  much,  my  cousin,  that  Made- 
moiselle Ladoon  is  not  a  blonde.  I  have  desired 
always  a  blonde  wife,  but  what  will  you  ?  One 
cannot  secure  everything!"  He  leaned  back  in 
his  chair  conjuring  up  Elinor's  image  as  she  had 
appeared  when  making  her  graceful  way  across 
the  fumoir.  Recalling  her  expression  as  she 
smiled  in  turn  upon  those  presented  to  her,  he 
fell  to  wondering  at  the  sadness  of  that  smile. 
Young,  beautiful,  rich,  yet  so  strangely  sad! 
Then  why  ?  He  determined  that  he  would  make 
it  his  business  to  discover. 

"Our  uncle  and  aunt  approve,"  he  wrote,  con- 
tinuing his  letter,  "and  they  will  arrange  every- 
thing. It  is  entirely  decided  that  I  shall  marry 
her. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"You  ask  why  I  did  not  continue  with  the 
cousin  of  Mademoiselle  Ladoon,  with  the  Made- 
moiselle Cryden,  and  if  she  had  not  sufficient 
money.  She  is  enormously  rich,  Matyas,  but 
stingy.  Aunt  Eugenie  sounded  her  in  regard  to 
the  dot,  and  discovered  that  she  would  relinquish 
but  a  third  of  her  fortune!  To  confess  myself 
wholly,  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  go  further  with 
Mademoiselle  Cryden.  She  is  so  old.  At  first 
I  thought  that  the  age  did  not  matter,  and  our 
uncle  urged  me  (the  third  of  her  fortune  being 
much  money),  but  I  could  not  force  myself  and  I 
withdrew.  Mademoiselle  Cryden  is  too  old! 

" These  Americans  are  a  strange  people.  They 
cry  out  against  our  custom,  that  of  the  wife's  Jot. 
If  one  asks  who  then  is  to  care  for  the  family, 
they  make  answer  the  husband!  Let  him  work 
and  provide  for  all.  I  am  told  that  in  the  United 
States  this  is  frequently  done,  the  wife  bringing 
nothing,  rien  du  tout!  Figure  to  yourself  what 
a  society! 

"But  the  fortune  of  Mademoiselle  Ladoon— 
so  Mademoiselle  Cryden  assures  Aunt  Eugenie — is 
to  pass  into  the  care  of  her  husband  upon  her 
marriage,  this  being  the  will  of  the  late  uncle  from 
whom  she  inherits  her  wealth.  She  has  now  a 
guardian,  a  Monsieur  Ferrars,  who  will  then  re- 

[73] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


linquish  his  charge.  I  think  we  shall  be  very 
happy  together.  I  will  give  her  affection.  Since 
parting  with  Melanie  I  have  done  with  love — 
and  to  love  one's  wife,  a  love-match,  juste  del! 
There  is  what  was  a  love-match  in  this  hotel. 
Now  they  hate  bitterly,  as  is  but  natural/' 

Ulaszlo  wiped  his  pen,  closed  his  inkstand, 
and  was  about  to  seal  his  letter  when  a  new  idea 
flashed  across  his  mind  and  caused  him  to  write 
a  long  postscript.  It  had  occurred  to  him  that 
when  he  should  have  married  Mademoiselle  La- 
doon  she  might  (with  the  strange  openness  which 
seemed  part  of  her  character)  relate  to  Matyas 
her  late  arrival  at  the  hotel,  and  tell  of  their  first 
meeting.  Ulaszlo  thought  that  it  would  be  dis- 
agreeable to  give  lessons  in  conduct — as  to  what 
she  should  tell,  and  what  not — to  a  newly  wedded, 
enormously  rich  wife.  It  would  be  better  to  re- 
count all  to  Matyas,  and  endeavor  to  make  Mat- 
yas understand  the  curious  ways  of  this,  to  him, 
unknown  breed  of  women.  Otherwise  Matyas 
might  misunderstand  the  future  Madame  Ulaszlo 
de  Noiraud,  and  become  venturesome. 

The  postscript  finished  to  his  satisfaction,  he 
sealed  his  letter  and  went  to  bed.  But  sleep  re- 
fused to  come  for  some  hours,  and  he  sighed  as 
he  realized  that  already  the  cares  of  a  married 

[74] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


man  were  descending  upon  his  shoulders.  He 
would  have  much,  very  much,  preferred  to  have 
remained  single  for  certainly  five  years  to  come, 
but  as  fate  had  ordained  that  in  this  case  he  must 
spend  his  time  dancing  attendance  upon  his  rich, 
childless  uncle,  he  sought  matrimony  as  the  lesser 
evil.  Should  he  make  a  good  marriage,  both  his 
uncle  and  his  father  would  settle  money  upon  him; 
he  would  have  a  fixed  income  and  his  freedom. 
He  longed  for  liberty.  " 


[75] 


IX 

"As  soon  as  they  saw  her  well-fared  face, 
They  cast  the  glamour  o'er  her,  O." 

VILLA  FENICE  was  built  years  before  Ville- 
de-Plaisir  was  ceded  by  Italy  to  France. 
Upon  its  roof,  high  above  the  door  of  entrance,  a 
plaster  phoenix  rises  proudly  from  its  flames. 
The  villa  fronts  upon  the  Italian  garden;  a  won- 
derful garden,  said  by  high  authority  to  rank  sec- 
ond to  that  of  the  Villa  d'Este  at  Tivoli.  And  be- 
cause of  the  exquisite  views  from  the  terraces  of 
Villa  Fenice,  views  of  the  Mediterranean  and  of 
the  mountains  of  the  coast  line,  some  prefer  this 
garden  to  that  other,  larger  one,  near  Rome. 

Villa  Fenice  and  its  garden  owe  their  size  to  a 
promised  visit  from  royalty;  some  say  a  king, 
others  a  princess.  But  if  the  sex  of  the  guest  is 
not  known,  it  is  believed  to  be  true  that  the  owner 
of  the  villa  added  largely  to  both  house  and  gar- 
den for  the  entertainment  of  the  promised  guest, 
thus  expending  his  entire  fortune.  Royalty  broke 
its  word,  and  the  disappointed  aspirant  for  royal 
favor  was  ruined.  But  villa  and  garden  remain, 

[76] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


— crumbling  and  defaced,  it  is  true,  but  still  rarely 
lovely — to,  delight  the  eyes  of  strangers  with  their 

beauty. 

"HOTEL  DU  JARDIN, 

"VILLA  FENICE. 

"DEAR  ALICIA: 

"I  have  discovered  why  I  was  asked  here  by 
Winifred.  The  reason  is  so  unpleasantly  foolish 
that  it  would  be  laughable  if  it  did  not  verge  on 
the  tragic.  Winifred  is  in  love  with  Ulaszlo  de 
Noiraud.  Yes,  you  may  cry  out  against  the  idea, 
Alicia,  and  cite  her  age;  you  may  say  that  it  is 
impossible,  incredible.  Nevertheless,  it  is  true. 
And,  after  all,  if  men  of  that  age  sometimes  fall 
in  love,  why  not  a  silly,  empty-headed  woman  ? 
And  poor  Winifred  is  very  silly,  and  very  empty- 
headed. 

"As  far  as  I  can  make  out,  Monsieur  de  Noi- 
raud's  uncle  and  aunt  thought  Winifred  might  do  for 
their  nephew — I  fancy  that  he  has  been  rather  wild 
—might  keep  him  out  of  scrapes  and  make  him  run 
straight.  At  any  rate,  it  would  seem  that  he  was 
at  one  time  devoted  to  her,  and  that  suddenly  he 
ceased  to  be.  This  from  Berthe,  whose  naughty 
little  tongue  runs  like  a  mill-stream  and  gives  me 
information  to  which  I  have  no  right  to  listen; 
but  how  to  stop  her — she  is  unstoppable,  to  coin  a 
word. 

[77] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"They  were  together,  the  de  Noirauds  and  Wini- 
fred, last  winter  and  far  on  into  the  spring.  'And 
it  was  in  the  spring  that  Monsieur  Laszlo  became 
so  cold  to  Mademoiselle' — I  quote  Berthe — 'ah, 
juste  del,  a  coldness  terrible!  Yet  ever  of  a  civil- 
ity extreme,  Mademoiselle  Ladoon,  oh  yes,  of  a 
civility!'  She  arched  her  eyebrows  and  flung  out 
her  arms.  'A  fierce  anger  would  have  been  truly 
more  agreeable  than  the  cold  politeness  of  Mon- 
sieur Laszlo  to  Mademoiselle  Creedan!' — Berthe's 
pronunciation  of  Cryden.  'Has  Mademoiselle 
Ladoon  ever  observed  the  coldness  of  Monsieur 
Laszlo  to  Mademoiselle  Creedan  ?  A  coldness 
underneath,  while  on  the  surface  all  is  of  a  grand 
politeness  ?  Monsieur  is,  of  a  truth,  always  cold, 
but  to  Mademoiselle  Creedan — ah  ! ! !' 

"This  is  quite  true,  Alicia,  and  I  have  noticed  it. 

"  In  regard  to  myself.  I  am  here,  it  would  seem, 
to  encourage  the  de  Noirauds  in  the  idea  that  in 
me  they  have  found  a  treasure  for  their  nephew. 
Winifred  does  not  care,  apparently,  how  many 
fibs  she  tells.  I  am  to  hand  over  the  huge  fortune 
I  have  inherited  to  my  husband  on  the  day  of  our 
marriage.  It  is  sufficiently  easy  to  understand 
the  Transylvanian's  desire  for  matrimony,  when 
one  learns  that  his  father  and  uncle  will  then  join 
in  settling  a  goodly  sum  upon  him.  So  he  is  not 

[78] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


so  black  as  Winifred  has  painted  him.  Marriage 
to  him  means  independence,  and  he  is  not  en- 
tirely a  'fortune  hunter,'  after  all.  His  discom- 
fiture when  he  learns  that  he  has  wasted  months  in 
pursuing  me  is  to  be  Winifred's  revenge.  A  very 
idiotic  one,  truly.  But  I  know  you  will  believe 
that  her  scheme  lies  deeper. 

"Ulaszlo  is  an  agreeable  companion,  so  agree- 
able that  I  was  not  too  unhappy  when  he  joined 
me  on  the  upper  terrace  this  morning.  In  order 
to  have  some  time  to  myself  I  get  up  early,  and  I 
was  strolling  up  and  down  the  terrace  by  nine 
o'clock.  The  air  was  glorious,  the  pure  air  of 
the  hills,  for,  as  I  wrote  you,  the  sea  is  two  miles 
distant.  The  terrace  must  be  two  hundred  feet 
long;  it  is  paved  with  cement  close  to  the  hotel, 
then  come  flower-edged  grass  plots  (where  grow 
palms,  orange,  and  lemon  trees),  separated  by 
broad  paths,  and  there  is  a  balustrade  to  keep  one 
from  falling  into  the  garden  below.  From  one 
end  one  has  a  superb  view  of  the  mountains,  while 
the  other  is  partially  shut  in  by  the  little  old  chapel 
with  its  roof  of  green  and  red  tiles.  It  is  all  very 
foreign  and  fascinating. 

"When  Monsieur  Laszlo  and  I  are  alone  together 
his  air  of  suppressed  excitement  betrays  a  con- 
sciousness that  we  are  without  a  chaperon.  I 

[79] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


envy  him  this  excitement,  for  it  evidently  is  a 
pleasant  one,  and  to  me  our  interviews  seem  tame. 
But  my  own  sensations  I  cannot  account  for;  for  I 
like  to  have  him  with  me  and  he  soothes  me,  and 
this  I  fail  to  understand.  It  does  not  matter  how 
he  feels;  if  he  is  excited  or  nervous  or  dull,  he 
makes  me  comfortable  just  the  same.  I  have  had 
this  feeling  before  with  a  dog,  but  never  with  a 
man. 

"I  said  that  I  intended  to  go  down  through  the 
garden  and  to  return  by  the  Monk's  Walk,  and  I 
invited  him  to  accompany  me.  He  was  slightly 
terrified  at  this  bold  idea,  and  he  glanced  up 
toward  the  window  of  his  aunt's  room  as  if  se- 
cretly wondering  what  she  would  think  of  such 
goings  on.  Then  I  fancy  he  remembered  that  I 
was  almost  his  fiancee,  for  he  came  very  close  and 
murmured,  in  a  voice  that  was  a  caress,  that  he 
would  gladly  go. 

"We  walked  down  a  broad  alley  (once  paved  in 
quaint  patterns,  but  all  is  wearing,  or  worn, 
away),  descending  now  long,  now  short  flights  of 
moss-grown,  crumbling,  statue-guarded  steps,  and 
on  under  magnolia  trees,  listening  to  the  water 
gurgling  down  the  little  cement  canals  on  either 
side,  into  cement  basins — old,  old  little  canals, 
and  old,  old  basins — like  a  musical  pair  of  brooks, 

[so] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


For  the  gardeners  were  irrigating  the  flower-beds. 
Now  and  again  tiny  lizards  darted  across  our 
path.  The  sun  was  powerful.  I  was  without  a 
hat,  and  carried  a  sunshade.  I  forgot  that  it  was 
December.  And,  somehow,  I  forgot,  also,  all  past 
and  present  worries.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  would 
be  content  to  ramble  on  forever  in  the  sunshine, 
with  my  handsome,  gentle,  idle  companion. 

"Yes,  Alicia,  that  is  the  way  the  man  affects 
me — and  I  can't  tell  why! 

"At  the  end  of  the  alley  we  saw  the  sea,  blue, 
sparkling,  glinting  in  the  sunshine;  and  in  the 
near  distance,  uplifted  high  in  air  against  the 
blue  background  of  sea  and  sky,  rose  the  graceful 
tower  of  the  old  monastery;  a  tower  that  closely 
resembles  that  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio  at  Florence. 
But  surmounting  this  tower  is  the  stately  figure  of 
an  angel  holding  a  cross.  A  weather-cock,  Alicia, 
but  such  a  splendid,  gracious  one! 

"The  alley  we  followed  is  the  chief  one  of  the 
garden.  It  ends,  apparently,  in  a  parapet;  but 
to  the  right  of  this  parapet  a  flight  of  unseen  steps 
leads  down  to  a  succession  of  small  terraces  end- 
ing in  a  mass  of  forest  trees  where,  turning  and 
descending  again,  we  reached  the  gate — a  stately 
gate,  supported  by  cypress  trees.  It  is  as  though 
one  were  in  a  room.  The  flagged  square  before 
[81] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


the  gate  is  so  large,  the  cypresses,  the  high  walls, 
and  the  steep  flight  of  steps  leading  down  to  it 
shutting  one  in.  It  was  dark  there,  and  cold, 
and  gloomy.  The  gateway,  a  grand  old  pillared 
gateway,  is  boarded  up,  a  narrow  opening  in  the 
wall  to  one  side  serving  as  a  means  of  egress  now. 

"The  place  destroyed  my  comfort.  There  was 
something  eerie  about  it.  I  shivered  and  Mon- 
sieur Laszlo  observing  this,  hastened  to  wrap 
your  scarf  about  my  shoulders.  But  it  was  not 
the  chill  that  I  minded,  it  was  the  gloom,  and  I 
hurried  out  into  the  sunshine  again.  I  told 
Laszlo  that  it  was  the  very  place  for  a  murder, 
and  he  reproved  me  gently,  but  very  gravely,  for 
indulging  in  such  terrible  thoughts.  Jeunes  demoi- 
selles, he  said,  should  think  only  of  birds  and 
flowers.  He  is  not  very  clever! 

"As  I  was  politely  listening  to  this  conservative 
prattle,  I  heard  a  child's  clear  treble  piping  a 
song,  to  the  accompaniment  of  footsteps  descend- 
ing the  stone  steps  down  which  we  had  just  come. 
The  words  of  the  song  rang  out  distinctly  in  the 
still  morning  air,  and  I  recognized  an  old  friend. 
Do  you  remember  the  quaint  doggerel  Uncle  Jim 
used  to  sing  for  my  amusement  when  I  was  a 
child  ?  He  knew  so  much  nonsense,  dear,  kind 
Uncle  Jim! 

[to] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"'A  meetin'  am  a  pleasure, 

And  a  partin'  am  a  grief, 
But  a  false-hearted  lovyer 

Am  worser  than  a  thief; 
For  a  thief  he  can  but  rob  yer, 

And  take  away  all  you  have, 
But  a  false-hearted  lovyer 

Can  tote  yer  to  the  grave.' 

"I  stood  still  (feeling  cut  to  the  heart  as  I  lis- 
tened, Alicia,  for  I  thought  of  Maynard),  and  the 
dearest  little  girl  came  dancing  out  of  the  gloom 
behind  us  into  the  sunshine.  She  looked  like  a 
ray  of  sunshine  herself  as  she  paused  on  the  low- 
est step  and  gazed  wonderingly  upon  us  out  of  a 
pair  of  large,  clear,  hazel  eyes.  Long  golden 
curls  hung  over  her  shoulders.  She  was  without 
a  hat,  and  she  wore  a  white  frock  with  fluttering 
ribbons.  She  might  have  been  a  little  fairy;  she 
was  so  light,  so  gracefully  ready  to  fly  away,  so 
fragile  and  fair.  I  lost  my  heart  to  her  on  the  spot. 

"'Are  you  the  star  of  the  morning?'  I  asked, 
smiling.  'You  look  bright  enough  to  be.' 

"She  did  not  answer,  but  suddenly  overcome 
with  shyness  timidly  cast  down  her  eyes,  the  long 
dark  lashes  making  a  charming  fringe  against  her 
pink  cheeks.  At  this  moment  her  nurse  loomed 
up  behind  her,  and  seeing  that  the  child  had 
found  friends,  beamed  affably  upon  us.  She  is  a 

[83] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


large,  comfortable  person,  with  a  fine  expanse  of 
apron  and  a  broad,  good-natured  Irish  face. 

"* Speak  to  the  young  lady,  Gwenny,'  she  said, 
with  a  feeble  attempt  at  reproof  in  her  fat  voice, 
'an*  tell  her  your  name/  Then,  evidently  accus- 
tomed to  having  her  behests  ignored,  she  told  the 
child's  name  herself.  'Gwendolen  Abercrombie 
Merryweather  is  her  name.  She's  named  for  her 
father's  mother  (your  grandma,  ain't  you,  pet  ?), 
and  she's  small  for  her  age — she's  eight.  We're 
here  to  learn  French,  she  and  me!'  and  she  chuckled 
over  the  jest. 

"'Nize  leetle  chile!'  said  Monsieur  de  Noiraud, 
altering  his  voice  after  the  comical  fashion  that 
some  people  have  when  speaking  to  children. 

"Gwendolen  shot  one  swift  side  glance  at  him, 
and  I  knew  that  she  had  detected  the  false  ring  in 
his  tone  as  clearly  as  I.  Then  she  looked  full  at 
me,  and  coming  forward  offered  one  small  hand 
and  made  me  a  quick  courtesy.  In  her  other 
hand  she  held  two  roses;  these  she  gave  me,  but 
she  said  nothing. 

"'Me  nozzing?'  mourned  de  Noiraud  in  his 
assumed  voice,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"The  child  surveyed  him  coldly,  turned,  and 
danced  up  the  steps.  Pausing  at  the  top  she 
looked  back  over  her  shoulder  and  kissed  her 

[84] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


hand  to  me.  Then  crying,  'Come,  Nanna!'  to 
her  nurse,  she  disappeared  in  the  gloom  of  the 
gateway. 

"'You  do  not  care  for  children,'  I  said  to  Laszlo. 

"'How  did  you  discover?'  he  demanded  in  sur- 
prise. 

"'Your  voice  told  me,'  I  said. 

"'You  are  very  clever,'  was  his  comment.  'I 
shall  soon  fear  you.' 

"This  was  not  true. 

"We  strolled  up  the  Monk's  Walk  slowly.  It  was 
not  gloomy  under  its  cypress  trees,  but  altogether 
lovely.  Far,  far  away  at  the  end  a  bit  of  blue  sky 
showed,  like  a  great  turquoise.  When  we  had 
mounted  to  the  plateau  we  came  upon  an  artist 
sketching.  A  tall,  loosely-put-together,  blond 
man  of  thirty,  with  a  kindly,  humorous  face  and 
charming  manners.  He  let  me  look  at  his  sketch. 
It  was  excellent.  The  black  tunnel  of  the  Monk's 
Walk,  with  a  glimpse  of  the  sunshine-bathed  ter- 
race at  the  end. 

"  He  was  very  pleasant  and  genial,  and  told  me 
that  he  was  on  the  Riviera  for  his  health;  and  he 
confessed  to  being  very  homesick,  as  his  wife  has 
to  remain  in  England  with  her  mother,  who  is  ill. 
He  thinks  of  coming  to  stay  in  this  hotel;  he  is  in- 
fatuated with  the  garden,  and  Ville-de-Plaisir  is 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


so  big  and  dusty  and  noisy.  (It  is  enormous! 
We  look  down  upon  it  from  here  and  its  red  roofs 
seem  never  ending.)  I  hope  he  may  come,  for  I 
like  him.  His  name  is  Delamere,  Caxton  Dela- 
mere.  Such  a  romantic  name!  I  like  it. 

"Monsieur  Laszlo  does  not  like  it;  and  he  did 
not  like  my  behavior.  For  I  forgot  that  he  did  not 
speak  English,  and  I  and  Mr.  Delamere  chatted 
in  our  own  tongue.  I  was  sorry  to  have  been  rude 
and  I  apologized.  And  last  evening  I  offered  to 
play  for  him.  Winifred  did  not  know  that  I  could 
play  and  she  feared  that  I  might  prove  myself  but 
a  tyro  and  weary  him.  I  had  a  little  triumph, 
Alicia,  a  little  triumph  that  would  have  delighted 
you,  you  are  so  vain  of  my  playing. 

"Then  came  a  surprise,  and,  strangely  enough, 
a  surprise  to  Winifred  as  well  as  to  me.  Mon- 
sieur Laszlo,  after  a  few  words  aside  with  his 
aunt,  went  away  and  returned  with  a  flute,  offer- 
ing to  play  for  us  in  his  turn.  My  surprise  was 
the  way  in  which  he  played,  and  Winifred's  that 
he  played  at  all,  for  in  all  the  time  that  she  has 
known  him  she  has  never  heard  of  this  talent.  A 
very  strange  and  wonderful  talent  it  is,  Alicia,  for 
he  is  one  of  those  curious  musicians  that  one 
meets  occasionally,  who  seem  to  play  by  some  in- 
stinctive inherited  perception,  without  any  feeling 
[86] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


for  the  music  they  create.  (How  can  I  describe 
this  so  that  you  may  understand  ?) 

"When  /  play  I  lose  myself,  I  forget  myself, 
swayed  away  from  my  own  personality  by  the  joy 
of  interpreting  the  outpourings  of  the  composer's 
heart  and  soul;  yet  with  my  own  heart,  my  own 
soul,  so  penetrated  with  sympathy  that  I  am  part 
and  parcel  of  it  all. 

"Not  so  the  Transylvanian.  His  handsome  cold 
dark  face — it  is  strange  to  see  a  man  of  his  type  so 
cold;  passion,  not  coldness,  belonging  as  by  right 
to  the  dark-eyed,  black-haired,  olive-skinned  peo- 
ple! I  keep  wondering  if  he  is  really  cold,  or  if 
there  is  not,  well  hidden  away  beneath  that  cold- 
ness, a  sufficiently  fierce  fire  ?  But  to  return  to 
his  music.  Listen,  this  is  what  happened. 

"Madame  de  Noiraud  (in  her  eternal  red  velvet) 
played  a  curious  accompaniment,  a  kind  of  rhythmic 
ding-dong  of  chords,  amounting  to  almost  nothing 
yet  serving  to  support  the  flute's  wild,  enchanting 
song.  Yes,  enchanting,  Alicia,  for  as  I  listened  I 
seemed  to  see  and  hear  wonderful  things.  I  for- 
got where  I  was;  I  was  as  one  bewitched,  as  be- 
witched as  the  poor  children  who  listened  to  the 
magical  pipe  of  the  Pied  Piper  of  Hamlin. 

"'And  ere  he  blew  three  notes  (such  sweet  soft  notes 
as  yet  musician's  cunning  never  gave  the  enraptured  air)' 

[87] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Do  you  remember  how  I  used  to  make  you  read 
the  poem  over  and  over  again  when  I  was  a  child  ? 
And  now  I  have  met  him,  the  Pied  Piper;  only, 
he  is  a  handsome  Hungarian  in  fashionable  Paris 
clothes,  and  his  pipe  has  turned  into  a  flute! 

"The  last  melody  he  played  had  the  most  curious 
effect  upon  me.  I  closed  my  eyes  and  I  had  the 
feeling  that  I  was  in  the  woods  following  a  ram- 
bling path,  while  brooklets  rippled  and  birds  trilled. 
It  was  so  lovely  that  I  hated  to  have  the  music 
stop,  and  it  was  difficult  to  come  out  of  my  dream 
and  tell  Laszlo  how  much  pleasure  he  had  given 
me. 

"'If  you  would  but  accompany  me?'  he  sug- 
gested. 

Madame  hopped  up,  evidently  glad  to  be  re- 
leased, and  I  took  her  place.  You  know  what  a 
passion  I  have  for  accompanying,  and  how  quickly 
I  catch  a  tune.  The  melody  was  simple. 

"'Play  slowly,'  I  said,  'and  I  will  follow/ 

"I  did  follow! 

"  I  followed  until  a  scared  feeling  came  over  me, 
a  feeling  that  I  must  stop  following,  following — 
and  I  stopped. 

"  It  cost  me  an  effort,  a  great  effort.  I  wonder 
now  how  I  could  have  been  so  silly  as  to  want  to 
stop.  What  do  you  suppose  I  did  ?  I  crashed 
[88] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


out  the  'Star-Spangled  Banner.'     The  room  fairly 
rang  with  it!     I  think  that  I  was  crazy. 

"  I  cried  to  Laszlo  as  I  swung  into  its  chords  that 
I  had  spoiled  Hungarian  music  long  enough,  and 
had  better  get  back  to  the  songs  of  my  own  peo- 
ple. The  stars  and  stripes  waved  the  mists  from 
my  silly  brain.  I  ceased  wool-gathering  and 
behaved  myself.  Everybody  applauded,  and  I 
managed  to  bow  myself  out  of  the  room  and  slip 
upstairs  to  bed. 

"Your  loving 

"ELINOR." 


[89] 


X 

"Not  so  long  and  wide  the  world  is, 
Not  so  rude  and  rough  the  way  is 
But  my  wrath  shall  overtake  you, 
And  my  vengeance  shall  attain  you!" 

IT  was  Christmas  morning.  Elinor  stood  at  her 
eastern  window  staring  with  unseeing  eyes  at 
the  exquisite  landscape.  She  had  begun  to  chafe 
at  the  life  of  deceit  forced  upon  her  by  her  ill- 
judged  cousin.  It  had  become  painfully  evident 
to  the  girl  that  her  presence  was  an  annoyance  to 
Winifred,  but  as  the  latter  showed  no  signs  of 
wishing  to  send  her  away  she  had  to  feign  uncon- 
sciousness of  this.  She  was  very  weary  of  duplic- 
ity. She  sighed,  and  the  sigh  did  not  belong  to  so 
bright  a  Christmas  morning. 

There  came  a  tap  at  the  door  and  Berthe  en- 
tered. 

"Mademoiselle  Creedan  desires  that  Made- 
moiselle will  visit  her  now  if  it  is  possible." 

"So  early,  Berthe?"  cried  Elinor  in  dismay. 
She  had  hoped  for  her  usual  walk  upon  the  ter- 
race. 

[90] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


The  maid  explained  that  Mademoiselle  Cryden 
had  had  a  bad  night,  that  she  was  nervous — oh,  of 
a  nervousness!  and  that  she  had  something  to  say 
to  Mademoiselle  Ladoon  immediately. 

"Very  well,  Berthe,"  said  Elinor,  "I  will  come. 
Here  is  a  little  Christmas  gift  for  you."  She  put 
silver  into  the  maid's  hand,  wishing  her  a  happy 
day. 

The  next  instant  the  impulsive  little  French- 
woman had  caught  her  hand  and  kissed  it.  Eli- 
nor saw  that  the  bright  black  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"No,  no,  Mademoiselle,"  Berthe  remonstrated. 
"Mademoiselle  must  not,  shall  not,  waste  her 
money  on  me.  See,"  she  ran  to  the  table,  "I  put 
all  back,  keeping  one  franc  for  luck,"  and  she 
laid  the  silver  down. 

Elinor  insisted  that  this  should  not  be.  "You 
have  done  so  much  for  me,  Berthe,"  she  said, 
"and  I  am  very  rich,  you  know."  She  smiled 
sadly. 

"But  nothing  at  all,"  cried  Berthe — "but  noth- 
ing, and  that  nothing  a  pleasure!  Mademoiselle 
is  so  sweet,  so  amiable  ever!  And  as  for  the 
wealth  of  Mademoiselle,  ah,  may  it  return  to  her 
then,  a  thousandfold!"  She  ran  out  of  the  room. 

Elinor  wrapped  the  rejected  gift  in  paper;  she 
would  bestow  it  later,  she  thought. 

[91] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"So  Berthe  knows  of  the  farce  that  is  being 
played!"  she  said  to  herself  as  she  went  slowly  to 
Winifred's  room.  "How  many  more  have  seen 
through  the  miserable  pretence,  I  wonder?"  She 
knocked  and  went  in. 

Miss  Cryden's  room  was  a  south  one  and  over- 
looked the  garden,  and  beyond  the  garden  Ville- 
de-Plaisir  and  the  sea.  The  sun  streamed  in 
through  the  closed  window,  the  " chauffage"  was 
turned  on,  the  room  was  suffocatingly  hot.  But 
Miss  Cryden  complained  of  the  cold.  She  was  in 
bed,  enveloped  in  an  old  blue  satin  opera  cloak, 
her  hair  done  up  in  a  rough  knot  on  the  top  of  her 
head,  and  she  held  a  hot-water  bottle  tightly 
against  her  cheek.  She  nodded  slightly  to  Eli- 
nor, then  closed  her  eyes  as  though  in  pain. 

"I  am  sorry  that  you  are  not  feeling  well,  Wini- 
fred," said  Elinor  gently.  "I  wish  I  might  say 
'Merry  Christmas!'  but  it  would  mean  noth- 
ing." 

"Nothing" — Miss  Cryden  spoke  with  what 
might  be  called  a  languid  tartness — "just  nothing, 
so  don't  say  it.  You  see  what  comes  of  my  going 
to  church  and  running  round  that  nasty,  dirty 
town,  so  I  hope  you  won't  go  on  nagging  me  to 
let  you  go  with  me."  She  removed  the  hot-water 
bag  and  shook  it  vindictively.  "Neuralgia  darting 

[92] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


everywhere — oh!  now  its  in  my  shoulder,  no,  the 
back  of  my  neck!"  She  transferred  the  rubber 
bag,  supporting  her  head  against  it  on  the  pillow. 
"Tell  Berthe  to  fill  another  bottle,  yes,  two.  I 
have  only  three,  I  wish  I  had  a  dozen.  As  for  go- 
ing to  church,  you'd  be  sure  to  meet  people  you 
know  there,  Ville-de-Plaisir  is  full  of  them,  a  nasty, 
gambling  crowd.  I  hate  Americans  anyway.  If 
I  liked  'em  I'd  remain  at  home.  And  I  do  think, 
Elinor" — she  paused  as  if  to  take  breath — "I  do 
think,  considering  that  you  are  here  as  my  guest, 
yes,  your  board  paid,  and  a  handsome  new  din- 
ner-gown given  you  for  this  evening,  that  you're 
not  doing  your  duty  by  me,  no,  you're  not." 

She  glanced  fiercely  at  Elinor  as  she  finished 
speaking,  then  closed  her  eyes  as  if  exhausted. 

Elinor  colored  deeply.  "I  don't  understand," 
she  faltered.  She  was  shocked  by  the  suddenness 
and  rudeness  of  the  attack.  "In  what  way  have 
I  failed,  Winifred  ?  Pray  tell  me" — she  lifted  her 
head  proudly — "and  pray  believe  me  when  I 
assure  you  that  I  wish,  wish  most  earnestly,  to 
earn  my  way." 

"Then  why  don't  you  do  what  you  know  I 
want  you  to  ?"  the  woman  in  the  bed  whimpered, 
taking  the  extra  hot-water  bags  now  brought  in 
by  Berthe  and  thrusting  them  under  the  coverings 

[93] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


of  the  bed.  "I've  pains  in  both  knees,  and  how 
I'm  going  to  dance  to-night — oh,  yes,  they  always 
dance  after  their  tedious  Christmas  dinner,  all 
crowded  together  at  one  long  table,  the  national- 
ities sorted  out  and  herded  together  like  cattle  of 
different  breeds  at  a  county  fair — and  if  you  can 
flirt  so  with  him,  a  married  man,  too,  not  that  7 
object  to  that,  who  cares  how  their  ridiculous  im- 
pudent wives  feel,  anyway  ?  and  if  they  want  to 
keep  their  husbands  straight,  they'd  better  run 
after  them,  instead  of  staying  at  home  to  nurse 
mothers  who  probably  wish  they'd  never  given 
birth  to  such  tedious  creatures. "  She  paused  to  re- 
arrange the  rubber  bottles,  which  bulged  up  under 
the  coverlet  like  two  gigantic  swollen  knee-caps, 
then  continued:  "But  all  I  have  to  say,  Elinor, 
is  that  if  you  can  flirt  Delamere  into  coming  to 
this  hotel  the  way  you  have — for  of  course  he's 
here  because  of  you,  those  Englishmen  have  no 
morals;  and  as  for  painting  this  rubbishy  garden, 
he  could  just  as  well  have  walked  to  it,  I'm  sure 
his  legs  are  long  enough;  and  the  place  he  was 
staying  at  before  he  saw  you  is  probably  worlds 
cheaper  than  this — where  was  I  ?  Oh,  well,  Eli- 
nor, if  you  can  flirt  with  him,  you  can  with  him, 
too,  and  I  wish  you  would,  and  I  hate  him,  and  I 
wish  he  were  dead — and — and " 

[94] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Her  voice  trailed  away  into  sobs.  She  looked 
a  very  wretched,  unhappy  woman. 

Elinor  comprehended  who  was  meant  by  the 
emphasized  "him."  She  was  frightened  by  this 
sudden  outburst  of  confidence  and  tears,  for  the 
undignified  grief  of  their  elders  is  always  terrify- 
ing to  the  young.  She  did  not  know  what  to  do 
or  say.  It  was  quite  untrue  that  she  had  flirted 
with  Mr.  Delamere,  and  he  would  have  been  the 
first  to  deny  that  he  was  coming  to  Hotel  du  Jar- 
din  for  her  sake. 

The  girl  bent  over  the  hysterical  woman,  try- 
ing to  soothe  her  into  composure,  a  great  pity 
surging  into  her  young  heart  for  the  pettiness, 
the  miserable  futility  of  this  very  real  passion. 
Without  it  how  content  Winifred  might  be!  She 
had  everything  to  make  life  pleasant — sufficient 
health,  sufficient  money,  and  a  sufficiency  of 
friends.  Had  she  married  the  Transylvanian  then, 
Elinor  said  to  herself,  her  cousin  might  really  have 
been  miserable,  a  man  more  than  thirty  years  her 
junior!  It  was  all  so  ridiculous,  yet  so  supremely 
pitiful. 

"Yes,  oh  yes,"  Miss  Cryden  complained,  in 
answer  to  Elinor's  gentle  words  of  sympathy, 
''Yes,  you  say  you  are  sorry,  but  you  aren't  a  bit! 
If  you  really  felt  as  you  pretend  you'd  promise 

[95] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


what  I  want.  Won't  you  try  to  make  him  care 
for  you  ? — that's  all  I  ask." 

"I  don't  know  how,"  Elinor  said,  driven  to 
plain  speaking,  "and  I  shouldn't  succeed  if  I  did 
try.  I  told  you  that  I  didn't  know  how  to  flirt, 
and  I  haven't  flirted  with  Mr.  Delamere." 

"I  saw  you  do  it,"  Miss  Cryden  retorted,  sitting 
up  so  hastily  that  the  hot-water  bags  fell  off  her 
knees  and  the  coverlet  flattened  itself.  "I  saw 
you  listening  to  him,  and  looking  up  at  him,  with 
a  perfectly  melting  expression  in  your  eyes.  And 
I'm  melting  with  the  heat,  yes,  melting!"  She 
tore  off  the  evening  wrap  and  cast  it  from  her, 
then  dragging  out  the  hot-water  bottles  sent  them 
to  join  it  upon  the  floor.  "And  I  wish  you'd 
open  that  window  and  let  in  some  of  God's  pure 
air!  You  and  Berthe  seem  to  think  that  because 
a  person  is  slightly  neuralgic — yes,  very  slightly, 
for  I'm  not  old  enough  yet,  thank  Heaven,  to  be 
all  over  aches  and  pains  like  that  dirty  old  Uncle 
de  Noiraud — did  you  notice  his  hands  last  night  ? 
Well,  you'd  better  not;  such  nails,  edged  with 
black  as  usual!  Where  was  I?  Oh,  I  remem- 
ber, and  you  needn't  open  the  window  wide,  Eli- 
nor, just  because  I  say  I  want  to  breathe,  a  crack, 
a  little  crack,  there,  that  will  do.  Now  come  here, 
close,  for  I  don't  want  to  speak  loud;  we  Ladoons, 

[96] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


thank  God,  are  reticent,  and  though  I  was  born 
Cryden,  I'm  just  like  mother,  a  Ladoon  out  and 
out." 

She  put  out  a  feverish  hand  and  grasped  Eli- 
nor's cool  firm  one,  then  softening  her  voice  strove 
to  smile  as  she  made  this  forlorn  appeal  to  her 
young  kinswoman:  "You  are  a  Ladoon,  Nelly 
dear;  I  knew  that  the  moment  I  saw  your  picture, 
the  one  poor  Jim  sent  me  last  year.  Yes,  you're 
a  Ladoon,  with  all  the  Ladoon  beauty  (of  course, 
your  nose  isn't  perfect,  neither  is  your  mouth,  but 
you're  better  looking  than  most  girls).  Where 
was  I  ?  Oh,  yes;  what  I  mean,  Nelly,  is  that 
you  and  I  are  both  Ladoons,  and  'blood's  thicker 
than  water,'  and  we're  bound  to  stand  by  each 
other — and  he's  treated  me  shamefuly,  shame- 
fully, and  he  deserves  to  be  punished !  Of  course, 
I  never  cared  much  about  him" — she  made  a  poor 
pretence  at  a  scornful  smile — "but  I  have  pride,  the 
Ladoon  pride,  and  he's  made  it  bite  the  dust." 

Winifred  had  touched  a  responsive  chord.  The 
color  surged  into  Elinor's  cheeks;  her  pride  too 
had  been  humbled,  the  intense  Ladoon  pride. 
She  saw  her  cousin  with  new  eyes.  How  could 
she  have  failed  to  realize  the  similarity  of  their 
positions  ?  How  self-absorbed  she  had  been ! 
Yes,  they  were  alike — both  jilted  women, 

[97] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Elinor  had  never  thought  of  revenging  herself, 
hers  was  not  a  vengeful  nature.  Because  of  her 
childhood's  friendship  and  affection  for  Maynard 
her  heart  had  even  made  excuses  for  him;  but 
her  pride  made  none,  its  wounds  still  bled.  She 
now  asked  herself  how  it  would  have  fared  with 
her,  had  she  loved  Maynard  as  passionately  as  this 
poor  weak  woman  loved  the  Hungarian  ?  And 
with  the  impulsiveness  of  warm-hearted  youth  she 
espoused  her  cousin's  cause. 

"Tell  me  just  what  you  want,  Winifred,"  she 
said.  "I  will  do  my  best  to  please  you." 

Miss  Cryden's  eyes  gleamed  with  triumph,  she 
caught  both  of  Elinor's  hands,  and,  drawing  the 
girl  down,  kissed  her.  "Dear  Elinor,"  she  said 
softly,  "dear  little  cousin  Nell!  Listen,  this  is 
what  you  are  to  do;  you  are  to  make  him  love 
you,  love  you  intensely,  love  you  heartachingly, 
love  you  despairingly!  You  say  you  don't  know 
how,  but  I  will  tell  you.  Make  him  believe  that 
you  love  him." 

Elinor  laughed  out,  a  ringing,  musical  laugh  of 
girlish  amusement.  "Forgive  me,  Winnie,"  she 
said,  "but  that  is  really  absurd!  I  shouldn't 
know  how  to  begin,  and  he'd  see  through  me  in 
a  minute." 

But  Miss  Cryden,  while  remaining  tragically 

[98] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


serious  herself,  noted  the  laugh  with  approval. 
"Laugh  that  way  when  he  says  something  he 
thinks  clever,"  she  said  eagerly,  "and  look  at  him 
always  as  if  you  thought  him  perfect.  His  vanity 
is  his  strongest  point,  and  to  please  him  you  must 
feed  it  eternally.  Your  eyes  will  say  anything 
you  wish  them  to,  Elinor;  make  them  speak  'La 
parlata  d'amor.'  My  eyes,"  she  sighed  deeply — 
"my  eyes  are  handsome  enough,  but  they  speak 
no  language." 

"They  are  very  bright  and  pretty,"  said  Elinor 
quickly. 

"Yes,"  the  elder  woman  acquiesced,  suppress- 
ing a  sneer  with  difficulty,  "but  they  are  never 
'pathetic/  or  *  wistful/  or  'laughing/  or  'melt- 
ing/ Elinor  Ladoon,  and  I  have  heard  all  these 
flowery  adjectives  applied  to  yours.  And  if  you 
will  ring  for  Berthe  I  will  get  up  and  dress,  and  I 
wish  you  a  merry  Christmas,  Nelly,  my  dear,  and 
many  of  them!" 

When  Elinor  went  to  her  room  she  found  a 
letter  from  Mr.  Ferrars.  It  appeared  that  a  guar- 
dian was  obliged  to  write  very  often. 


[99] 


XI 

VITTORIA 

"  You  shall  hear  all 
But  first  sit  down  and  listen  patiently 
While  I  confess  myself." 

JULIA 

"  What  deadly  sin 
Have  you  committed  ?  " 

VITTORIA 
"  Not  a  sin;  a  folly." 

THE  day  after  Christmas  Elinor  wrote  of  her 
curious   interview  with   Miss   Cryden,  and 
then  gave  the  following  account  of  her  Christmas 
afternoon  and  evening  at  Hotel  du  Jardin. 

"I  strolled  in  the  garden  with  Mr.  Delamere 
yesterday  afternoon.  He  is  awfully  nice,  so  kind 
and  bright,  and  making  the  best  of  everything 
and  everybody,  always  excepting  the  Hungarians! 
He  doesn't  like  them.  He  says:  'Of  course, 
their  fixity  of  vision  is  sublime,  Miss  Ladoon,  and 
I  admire  it  immensely.  I  doubt  if  your  American 
eagle  ever  stares  at  the  sun  for  so  long  a  time,  and 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


so  unwinkingly,  as  the  Hungarian  trio  do  at  you. 
Last  evening  I  had  a  morbid  desire  to  jump  at 
them  with  a  sudden  yell,  just  to  see  if  I  could 
startle  them  into  staring  like  other  people.  But 
their  rudeness  is,  as  I  said  before,  sublime,  and  it 
elicits  my  wondering  admiration/  And  he  stood 
at  attention  and  saluted. 

"  It  is  true  that  they  have  an  odd  way  of  looking 
at  people,  a  fixed  stare,  as  Mr.  Delamere  says. 

"We  found  a  curious  thing  in  the  garden.  There 
is  a  grotto  (in  which  a  tiny  fountain  plays),  built 
just  below  and  against  the  wall  of  the  first  ter- 
race. To  one  side  of  this  grotto  a  marble  slab  is 
fitted  into  the  wall.  On  it  are  strange  markings — 
a  triangle,  the  setting  (or  rising  ?)  sun,  and  these 

words:  ,« 0          ,         7, 

"bceau  eternel 

"Mr.  Delamere  and  I  are  very  anxious  to  learn 
its  history,  but  so  far  we  have  been  unable  to  dis- 
cover anything.  Mr.  Delamere  said  that  where 
there  was  one  there  were  generally  two,  on  the 
principle  that  dogs  hunted  in  couples,  and  you 
rarely  killed  one  snake  without  presently  stumbling 
across  its  mate.  So  we  walked  through  the  grotto, 
and  there,  corresponding  to  the  tablet  on  the 
other  side,  we  found  a  low  doorway  opening  into 
the  wall.  Mr.  Delamere  peeped  in. 
[10!] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


'Hum,'  he  said,  'tomb  ready  for  the  mate, 
now  serving  as  a  tool-house.' 

"He  stepped  back,  and  I  stooped  and  went  in. 

"Such  a  grewsome  sensation,  Alicia!  It  was 
evidently  intended  to  be  used  just  as  Mr.  Dela- 
mere  said.  He  crouched  low  and  thrust  in  his 
head  and  shoulders,  pointing  out  to  me  where 
there  had  been  an  opening  of  communication  be- 
tween the  two  tombs — for  tombs  they  are,  most 
undoubtedly.  The  opening  has  been  bricked  up, 
and  while  Mr.  Delamere  had  his  ringers  upon  it, 
trying  to  discover,  by  the  feeling  of  the  bricks  and 
mortar,  if  they  were  old  to  crumbling-awayness, 
I  heard  a  low  exclamation  outside.  He  heard  it, 
too,  and  drew  back  and  out  of  the  doorway, 
and  there,  gazing  at  us,  were  the  three  pairs 
of  large  black  eyes  of  which  we  had  just  been 
talking! 

"In  each  pair,  Alicia,  there  was  an  expression 
of  pained  surprise,  and  I  realized  that  to  people 
with  their  ideas  Mr.  Delamere  and  I  were  behav- 
ing with  shocking  impropriety.  A  young  unmar- 
ried lady  in  a  receptacle  for  tools,  with  the  head 
and  shoulders  of  a  gentleman  blocking  up  the 
door  of  egress!  A  most  glaring  breach  of  Euro- 
pean etiquette. 

"I  knew  that  Mr.  Delamere  was  with  difficulty 

[102] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


suppressing  a  wicked  grin  as  he  hastily  explained 
our  position. 

'Mademoiselle  Ladoon  does  not  understand 
French  gardening,'  he  said,  taking  off  his  hat  in 
salutation,  'but  she  has  found  a  rake  to  rake  with, 
and  a  spade  to  dig  with;  so  she  should  be  able  to 
rake  up,  or  dig  out,  whatever  she  desires.'  He 
pointed  at  the  tools  lying  on  the  floor. 

1  'Ah,  indeed!'    chorused  the  trio,  staring  and 
evidently  wondering  what  on  earth  he  meant. 

"  He  did  not  trouble  to  explain  further,  but,  say- 
ing that  he  would  not  spoil  a  parti  carre,  went 
away  through  the  garden,  while  I  returned  to  the 
house  with  the  de  Noirauds. 

"Mindful  of  the  part  I  had  promised  to  play,  I 
thought  that  I  had  better  start  in  at  once,  and,  do 
you  know,  I  felt  excited !  I  am  so  ignorant  of  the 
science  of  flirting,  for,  of  course,  it  must  have  its 
science,  just  like  every  game.  And  since  I  must 
flirt  I  should  like  to  do  it  well.  I  only  wish  there 
were  some  book  on  the  subject!  It  is  hateful  to 
have  to  begin  with  only  Winifred's  hints.  But  I 
mean  to  put  my  mind  to  it  and  learn  by  expe- 
rience, since  there  are  no  given  rules.  I  shall  com- 
mence by  trying  my  hand  on  every  one,  the  wom- 
en as  well  as  the  men.  Unfortunately,  Winifred 
obliges  me  to  avoid  most  of  the  people  here,  as 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


she  doesn't  want  to  see  much  of  any  one  save  the 
de  Noirauds.  But  I  shall  do  what  I  can. 

"Well,  I  started  straight  in  with  the  trio. 

"First  I  tried  Uncle  de  Noiraud.  I  managed 
to  walk  up  to  the  house  with  him,  and  I  gave  him 
the  kind  of  glances  Winifred  advised.  I  looked 
at  him  as  though  he  were  perfect — he  is  a  very 
tiresome,  dumpy,  little  old  man.  Then  remem- 
bering that  Laszlo  was  the  really  important  one, 
I  flashed  back  glances  over  my  shoulder  at  him, 
with  the  same  expression,  only  intensified.  When 
we  reached  the  house  I  turned  to  Madame  and 
told  her,  what  was  quite  true,  that  the  lace  scarf 
she  wore  over  her  head  was  very  becoming, 
and  I  presented  her  with  the  self-same  optical 
delusion. 

"Then  I  was  made  extremely  uncomfortable, 
for  with  one  accord  they  treated  me  as  though  I 
were  the  fiancee  of  Monsieur  Ulaszlo! 

"Oh,  yes,  Alicia,  he  too.  He  evidently  thought 
I  was  quite  ready.  A  tyro,  I  had  gone  too  far. 
I  made  up  for  it  later,  as  you  shall  hear.  I  shall 
learn,  never  fear! 

"There  is  a  billiard-table  in  the  pretty  hall  of 
the  old  villa,  and  we  played  a  game  of  billiards, 
uncle,  Laszlo,  and  I.  Madame  got  her  intermi- 
nable knitting  and  looked  on.  I  am  rather  good 

[  104] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


at  billiards,  as  you  know,  and,  to  speak  slangily,  I 
wiped  the  de  Noirauds  off  the  face  of  the  earth. 
Then  they  all  shook  hands  with  me  (foreigners 
shake  hands  every  other  minute),  and  I  went  up- 
stairs to  dress  for  the  grand  Christmas  dinner. 

"My  new  gown  is  handsome  but  odd.  It  is 
made  entirely  of  crepe.  The  sleeves  are  short, 
the  bodice  cut  low.  Berthe  arranged  my  hair  and 
ornamented  it  with  a  white  carnation.  During 
the  evening  three  separate  men  informed  me  that 
it  looked  like  a  star  in  the  night! 

"The  dinner  was  served  in  the  larger  of  the 
dining-rooms.  We  all  sat  at  one  table,  and  the 
different  nationalities  had  been  sorted  out  and 
put  in  groups.  Mr.  Delamere  pretended  not  to 
understand  and  sat  down  between  Winifred  and 
me,  and  the  niaitre  d' hotel  finding  it  impossible  to 
dislodge  him,  had  to  let  him  stay.  Winifred  was 
delighted,  and  he  cheered  her  up  wonderfully. 

"The  room  was  charmingly  dressed  with  flow- 
ers and  with  orange-tree  boughs  heavy  with  their 
golden  fruit.  At  dessert  all  the  lights  suddenly 
went  out,  and  the  waiters  entered  in  procession 
carrying  the  ice-cream,  which  was  in  Swiss  cha- 
lets, their  windows  illuminated.  Everybody  ap- 
plauded. 

"After  dinner  there  was  a  dance.    The  dining- 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


room  was  cleared  for  action;  musicians  in  bright 
red  coats  took  their  places  at  one  end,  and  all  the 
world  went  mad — I,  too,  Alicia,  along  with  the 
rest!  It  was  wrong  for  me  to  dance  so  soon  after 
dear  Uncle  Jim's  death,  but  Winifred  insisted 
that  it  was  in  the  bond. 

"I  pursued  my  new  study  all  the  evening. 

"There  was  the  jolliest  German  officer  with 
whom  I  danced  a  great  deal.  (He  left  for  home 
this  morning  as  his  leave  is  up.)  But  I  danced 
with  every  one  a  great  deal,  and  I  did  my  best  to 
please.  Before  the  end  of  the  evening  the  de 
Noirauds  were  not  quite  so  sure  of  their  success 
with  the  American  heiress.  Laszlo  became  ex- 
cited, and  lost  a  little  of  his  cold  composure. 

"He  dances  divinely,  and,  I  will  tell  you  the 
truth,  Alicia,  I  preferred  dancing  with  him.  For 
when  I  did  so  I  had  that  same  odd  sensation  of 
ease,  of  carelessness,  that  I  have  spoken  of  be- 
fore. I  forgot  the  other  people,  I  forgot  what  I 
was  to  do  to  please  Winifred;  I  just  danced,  and 
danced,  and  was  content.  I  wonder  why  ? 

"Poor  Winifred!  She  was  very  unhappy. 
While  she  wants  me  to  please  de  Noiraud  it  hurts 
her  heart  to  see  me  seem  to  do  so.  I  write  seem, 
because  I  feel  that  he  cares  nothing  for  me.  He 
pretends  cleverly,  but  I  am  pretending,  too! 
[106] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"I  confess  that  the  game  begins  to  absorb  me. 
Alicia,  Alicia,  am  I  doing  wrong  ?  I  am  an  Amer- 
ican, and  I  am  playing  to  win. 

"Your  loving 

"ELINOR. 

"P.  S. — I  taught  Mr.  Delamere  to  reverse.  He 
learned  quickly;  he  is  so  clever." 


XII 

"...  Oh  sir,  she  smiled,  no  doubt 
Whene'er  I  passed  her;  but  who  passed  without 
Much  the  same  smile  ?  .  .  .  ' 

THERE  was  dissension  in  the  de  Noiraud 
camp.  The  two  gentlemen  were  anxious  to 
ask  at  once  for  the  hand  of  the  American  heiress. 
It  took  long  always,  they  argued,  to  arrange  such 
matters  when  a  large  fortune  was  in  question;  and 
in  this  case,  with  the  guardian  in  far  distant  New 
York,  much  time  would  be  required.  But  Ma- 
dame de  Noiraud  opposed  such  haste — undue  haste 
she  called  it.  It  would  be  far  better  to  wait, 
she  insisted,  until  Mademoiselle  Ladoon  showed  a 
decided  preference  for  Laszlo.  At  present,  who 
might  say  if  she  wished  to  marry  him  or  not  ? 

It  was  in  vain  that  Monsieur  de  Noiraud 
pointed  out  the  favor  that  Mademoiselle  Ladoon 
showed  Laszlo,  in  always  smiling  upon  him  with 
an  extreme  gentleness,  and  always  receiving  his 
homage  graciously.  And  even  when  Ulaszlo  him- 
self modestly  confirmed  the  old  gentleman's  state- 
[108] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


ment,  assuring  his  aunt  that  Mademoiselle  had 
ever  been  most  amiable,  even  then  Madame  de 
Noiraud  had  held  to  her  opinion. 

"Upon  whom  then  does  she  not  smile?"  the 
lady  had  demanded  of  her  husband.  "She  has 
smiled  upon  thee,  mon  pauvre  ami,  until  she  has 
caused  thee  to  lose  thy  clearness  of  perception! 
Mademoiselle  Ladoon  is  a  coquette,  a  'fleurt*  as 
these  English  call  it.  See  then,  she  fleurts  with 
every  one — with  me  even!" 

The  two  men  did  not  answer,  neither  did  they 
exchange  glances,  thus  confiding  their  mutual 
wonder.  They  were  silent.  Both  apparently  ac- 
cepted in  good  faith  Madame's  sharply  voiced  sen- 
timents, while  neither  believed  for  a  moment  that 
she  had  given  her  true  reasons  for  wishing  to 
postpone  matters.  The  husband,  gazing  with 
apparent  placidity  into  nothingness,  was  in  reality 
searching  for  Madame's  real  motives.  Ulaszlo, 
his  eyes  cast  down,  his  face  quite  without  expres- 
sion, was  mentally  cursing  his  aunt  for  selfishly 
interfering  with  his  projects. 

He  said  to  himself  that  she  was  loath  to  part 
with  him,  her  handsome  nephew,  as  she  realized 
perfectly  that  the  ladies  would  pay  her  but  little 
attention  were  he  gone.  "She  would  deprive  me 
of  my  liberty  forever,"  he  thought  bitterly.  "I 
[  109] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


hate  my  life,  spent  eternally  with  these  two  tire- 
some old  people!  She  knows  too  well  that  with- 
out me  she  would  be  left  alone  in  a  corner,  with 
my  uncle  and  her  knitting.  I  hate  her,  I  hate  her! 
I  wish  that  she  might  die!" 

He  rose,  and  smiling  gently  upon  his  aunt, 
assured  her  that  he  had  every  confidence  in  her 
good  judgment.  "Mademoiselle  Cryden  invites 
us  to  drink  tea  with  her  this  afternoon  in  her  bou- 
doir. There  are  to  be  sweet  cakes;  and  tar- 
tines,  with  English  jam;  they  call  them  'san- 
wiges.'  You  will  come,  dear  aunt  ?  Perhaps  you 
will  put  on  first  the  red  velvet,  it  is  marvellously 
becoming,  the  robe  of  red  velvet!" 

Madame  de  Noiraud  beamed  upon  her  nephew. 
She  was  not  sufficiently  astute  to  detect  his  du- 
plicity. "It  is  the  first  day  of  their  new  year," 
she  said,  "a  day  of  festival.  I  will  not  wear  the 
red  velvet,  cher  enfant,  but  the  black-and-white 
striped  satin.  I  will  make  my  toilette  at  once. 
You  may  await  me  here." 

She  rolled  up  her  knitting  and  hastened  away, 
much  pleased  that  both  husband  and  nephew  had 
acquiesced  so  promptly  in  regard  to  putting  off 
what  was  to  her  the  evil  day,  and  quite  uncon- 
scious that  Ulaszlo  had  read  her  secret  reasons 
correctly. 

[IIO] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Miss  Cryden  had  adorned  both  her  young  cousin 
and  her  little  salon  in  honor  of  her  expected  guests, 
but  Berthe  had  been  her  sole  confidante.  Com- 
plaining to  Elinor  that  she  was  beginning  the 
new  year  miserably,  feeling  both  dull  and  unhappy, 
she  had  begged  the  young  girl  to  amuse  her  by 
donning  one  of  her,  Miss  Cryden's,  gowns,  a  pale- 
green  satin  richly  trimmed  with  point-lace.  Not 
wishing  to  be  unkind,  Elinor  had  unwillingly 
yielded. 

The  satin  was  very  becoming.  A  pale  pink 
rose  was  fastened  with  a  half-moon  of  diamonds 
in  Elinor's  dark  hair  and  Miss  Cryden  herself 
pinned  a  diamond  sunburst  on  the  square-cut 
corsage.  The  elder  lady  then  arrayed  herself  in 
a  trailing  black  tea-gown,  sparkling  with  jets,  and 
pronouncing  herself  satisfied,  sat  down  with  Elinor 
to  a  game  of  cards. 

"A  ball  in  honor  of  the  day,"  Elinor  said  smil- 
ing. "How  pretty  you  have  made  your  parlor, 
Winifred !  The  flowers  are  lovely." 

As  Elinor  spoke  a  card  with  something  written 
upon  it  was  brought  by  Hubert.  Miss  Cryden, 
reading  it,  told  Hubert  to  say  she  would  be  de- 
lighted. 

"The  ladies  are  ravishing!"  Hubert  exclaimed, 
holding  up  his  hands  in  admiration,  his  bright 
[HI] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


black  eyes  riveted  upon  Elinor.     "Madame  and 

the  messieurs  will  be " 

,  "Enough,"  interrupted  Winifred  sharply,  "Have 
the  kindness  to  attend  to  my  message,"  and  jump- 
ing up  she  almost  pushed  the  bewildered  man 
from  the  room,  slamming  the  door  to  after  him. 
"I  detest  him!"  she  cried  angrily  as  she  reseated 
herself.  "Hotel  servants  are  always  detestable. 
Spoiled,  greedy  creatures,  perpetually  after  fees!" 

She  appeared  flustered,  excited.  Elinor  won- 
dered what  the  message  was,  but  was  not  en- 
lightened. At  five  o'clock  there  came  a  tap  at  the 
door. 

" Entrez!"  Miss  Cryden  cried  with  hospitable 
clearness;  then,  under  her  breath,  "Sit  still,  Eli- 
nor." 

The  door  opened  and  the  de  Noirauds  entered 
accompanied  by  a  stranger,  a  dark-haired,  dark- 
eyed  man  of  thirty.  Madame  de  Noiraud  was 
magnificent,  in  the  black-and-white  striped  satin 
and  a  long  string  of  pearls.  The  stripes  of  the 
satin  were  broad,  but  not  so  broad  as  the  smile 
of  the  wearer;  Madame  loved  to  be  asked  to  eat 
sweets  of  an  afternoon. 

Elinor,  remembering  her  borrowed  plumes,  had 
risen  as  the  others  entered,  and  gaining  the  door 
leading  into  the  adjoining  room — for  Miss  Cry- 

[112] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


den's  parlor  and  bedroom  communicated — thought 
to  make  her  escape.  To  her  chagrin  she  found 
that  the  door  was  locked.  Understanding  in- 
stantly that  Berthe  must  have  been  told  to  lock  it, 
and  that  Miss  Cryden  wished  her  to  be  caught 
thus,  she  turned  back,  crimsoning  with  annoy- 
ance, but  determined  to  make  the  best  of  her  dis- 
agreeable position. 

"Isn't  green  becoming  to  her?"  said  Miss  Cry- 
den,  laughing  with  affected  gayety.  And  catch- 
ing Elinor's  hand  she  drew  her  forward  to  the 
middle  of  the  room.  "I  didn't  want  her  to  start 
the  new  year  in  black — so  unlucky,  I  think — and 
I  felt  that  quite  among  friends  it  would  do  no 
harm.  I  did  not  expect  this  additional  pleasure" 
— she  smiled  archly  at  the  new  comer — "but  I  am 
sure  we  can  count  upon  his  not  telling.  Elinor, 
this  is  Monsieur  de  Folatre,  another  nephew  of 
Monsieur  and  Madame  de  Noiraud." 

Monsieur  de  Folatre,  his  dark  eyes  expressing 
bold  admiration,  bowed  low,  while  old  Monsieur 
de  Noiraud  paid  Elinor  an  old-time  compliment 
upon  her  flower-like  appearance.  Ulaszlo  now 
pushed  himself  forward — he  had  been  hemmed 
in  behind  his  family  group — saying  that  he  had 
something  to  relate  that  would  interest  Made- 
moiselle Ladoon  greatly.  Then,  recollecting  him- 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


self,  he  added  hastily,  a  something  that  would 
interest  both  Mademoiselle  Cryden  and  Madem- 
oiselle Ladoon  greatly;  but  Winifred's  angry  eyes 
showed  that  she  had  noted  the  slip,  and  that 
his  second  thought  had  come  too  late.  His  news 
turned  out  to  be  no  news;  it  was  merely  that  there 
was  to  be  music  at  dinner,  and  after  dinner  the 
room  would  be  cleared  for  dancing,  as  upon  Christ- 
mas night. 

"When  I  hope  I  may  have  the  honor  of  a  dance 
with  Mademoiselle  Ladoon,"  said  Monsieur  de 
Folatre  quickly. 

"Such  a  pity  that  Sophie  could  not  have  come 
with  you,  Matyas,"  Ulaszlo  remarked  smoothly 
to  his  cousin,  "she  would  have  enjoyed  the  dance. 
I  speak  of  Madame  de  Folatre,  the  wife  of  my 
cousin."  Ulaszlo  turned  to  Elinor.  "She  is  Eng- 
lish, and  she  is  young  and  very  charming." 

Matyas  shot  a  swift  glance  of  displeasure  at  his 
indiscreet  relative.  Of  what  use  to  mention  So- 
phie to  the  beautiful  American  girl  ?  American 
girls,  so  Laszlo  had  informed  him,  preferred  un- 
married men.  He,  Matyas,  was  to  remain  but 
one  night  at  Hotel  du  Jardin;  Laszlo  might  surely 
have  allowed  him  to  appear  as  a  bachelor  for  that 
short  time.  But  Laszlo  was  ever  vain,  weak, 
and  passionately  jealous,  he  said  to  himself;  ah, 

t"4] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


well,  he,  Maytas,  would  revenge  himself  a  little, 
a  very  little,  upon  his  selfish  cousin! 

Thus  thinking,  Monsieur  de  Folatre  took  up  a 
plate  of  fancy  cakes  from  the  tea-table  and  busied 
himself  passing  them  to  Miss  Cryden  and  her 
guests.  Stopping  before  Elinor  he  begged  her  to 
choose  one  of  the  little  cakes  for  him. 

"Sophie  does  it  for  me  when  I  am  at  home," 
he  said  in  excellent  English,  speaking  with  very 
little  accent,  "and  I  never  know  which  cake  to 
take  when  I  am  thrown  on  my  own  resources.  I 
lack  decision,  Miss  Ladoon." 

"Cakes  standing  for  every  kind  of  pleasure,  I 
suppose?"  said  Elinor,  selecting  her  cake  with 
an  affectation  of  deep  thought.  "Madame  de 
Folatre  decides  each  morning  if  the  game  of  the 
day  shall  be  golf,  tennis,  or — or  diavolo?" 

"Yes,  that  is  it,"  said  Matyas,  delighted  with 
Elinor's  responsiveness,  and  he  brought  his  chair 
and  his  cup  of  tea  and  placed  himself  beside  her. 
He  regretted  that  his  stay  was  so  limited,  and  he 
also  regretted  that  he  was  married.  There  would 
have  been  a  delicious  excitement  in  paying  court 
to  an  heiress  of  Miss  Ladoon's  intelligence  and 
beauty,  and  a  rare  joy  in  cutting  out  Laszlo.  He 
glanced  furtively  toward  his  cousin  to  see  how  he 
might  be  enduring  the  situation,  and  was  annoyed 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


to  find  that  Laszlo's  handsome  face  betrayed  noth- 
ing. Ulaszlo  munched  a  sandwich  and  drank  his 
tea  as  though  unconscious  of  the  presence  of  a 
rival.  "He  thinks  I  will  be  gone  to-morrow,  and 
he  is  content  to  wait,"  de  Folatre  said  to  himself, 
and  he  was  so  provoked  at  his  non-success  in  pro- 
voking that  he  sighed. 

"You  sigh!  You  do  not  like  the  little  cake  that 
I  have  chosen  for  you?'*  said  Elinor,  her  eyes 
brimful  of  sympathy.  "I  am  so  sorry.  Let  me 
choose  again." 

Rising,  she  made  her  graceful  way  to  the  tea- 
table  and  took  up  the  plate  of  cakes.  Matyas  rose, 
also,  but  he  did  not  follow;  he  was  too  much  in- 
terested in  watching  this,  to  him,  new  kind  of 
demoiselle,  to  wish  to  interfere  with  anything  she 
might  do.  Ulaszlo  watched,  also.  As  Elinor, 
returning  with  the  cakes,  came  near  him  he 
got  up. 

"I  am  to  have  nothing?"   he  said  in  low  tones. 

Elinor  paused,  regarding  him.  His  eyes  were 
very  different  from  his  cousin's  she  thought,  al- 
though the  cousin's  eyes,  too,  were  dark  and  ex- 
tremely handsome.  But  somehow  the  expression 
in  Laszlo's  eyes  made  one  wish  to  please  him — 
and  why  ?  As  she  wondered,  her  eyes  on  his,  she 
almost  forgot  the  waiting  Matyas. 
[u6] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"You,  too,  desire  a  little  cake?"  she  asked 
dreamily. 

"I  desire  one  greatly,"  said  the  young  man. 
Smiling  faintly,  he  held  out  his  hand.  His  atti- 
tude expressed  the  deepest  devotion.  Was  he 
holding  out  his  hand  for  a  little  cake  only  ? 

Matyas,  looking  on  in  disgust  at  the  turn  affairs 
were  taking,  felt  helpless  to  interfere.  He  could 
not  do  so  before  his  uncle  and  aunt. 

"May  I  come  in?"  said  a  pleasant  voice  from 
the  doorway.  "Oh,  pardon  me,  I  didn't  know 
you  were  not  alone!  I  only  came  to  beg  a  cup 
of  tea  for  sweet  charity's  sake." 

It  was  Mr.  Delamere.  Miss  Cryden  rustled 
forward  to  meet  him,  delighted  not  only  with  this 
evidence  of  her  popularity  with  the  opposite  sex, 
but  happy  to  have  the  scene  with  the  cakes  broken 
up.  For  the  poor  woman,  with  a  very  natural  in- 
consistency, could  not  endure  seeing  her  quondam 
soupirant  making  love  to  another,  although  that 
other  had  been  brought  by  her  own  volition  into 
his  life  for  that  very  purpose. 

It  was  to  Elinor  as  if  the  air  had  been  suddenly 
cleared;  the  cheery  tones  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  voice 
gave  her  the  odd  sensation  of  waking  from  a 
dream. 

"A   little   cake?"    she   said   gayly   to   Ulaszlo. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Of  course,  and  not  one  but  two;  for  I  have 
known  you  nearly  a  month!"  She  placed  two  in 
the  outstretched  hand.  "Only  one  for  you,  Mon- 
sieur de  Folatre" — she  smiled  as  she  selected  a 
macaroon — "because  you  have  just  arrived.  Re- 
main a  month  and  my  generosity,  will  grow.  And 
for  you,  Mr.  Delamere" — she  paused  as  she  ap- 
proached the  Englishman — "how  many  cakes  do 
you  demand  ?" 

Mr.  Delamere  smiled  down  upon  her  admir- 
ingly. "Cake  me  no  cakes,"  he  said.  "Give  me 
a  chance  to  paint  you  in  that  costume,  and  I'll 
willingly  go  on  bread  and  water  for  a  month." 

Ulaszlo  drew  near  his  cousin.  "What  does  he 
say?"  he  whispered. 

"He  is  making  love  to  her,"  was  the  low-voiced 
reply,  "and  Mademoiselle  is  pleased." 

"  Impossible,"  murmured  Ulaszlo  coldly.  "The 
Englishman  is  married.  He  is  her  friend,  voila 
tout!" 

"Her  friend?"  sneered  Matyas,  giving  the 
French  interpretation  to  the  word.  "Son  ami! — 
vraiment?" 

"It  is   not  as  you   think,"   Ulaszlo   explained 
hurriedly.     "A  friend  American,  meaning  an  ac- 
quaintance, only.     It  is  their  custom.     There  is 
no  harm.     It  is  quite  innocent." 
[118] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"And  quite  childish,"  was  the  scornful  com- 
ment. "But  are  you  sure?" 

"Entirely  so.  Childish,  and  tiresome,  if  you 
will,  but  believe  me,  innocent.  I  can  say  no 
more.  The  aunt  regards  us."  He  moved  to  the 
tea-table  and  gently  begged  another  cup  of  tea 
from  Miss  Cryden.  "It  is  so  delicious,"  he  said 
softly.  In  reality  he  detested  the  beverage,  but 
there  were  many  detestable  necessities,  he  had 
found,  in  the  making  of  one's  self  agreeable. 

Mr.  Delamere,  meanwhile,  was  speaking  ear- 
nestly to  Elinor. 

"No  one  has  the  room  now,  the  chambermaid 
tells  me.  How  would  you  like  to  make  the  ex- 
periment with  the  echo  to-night  ?  Surely  it  ought 
to  come  on  the  first  night  of  the  new  year.  If  I 
were  a  ghost  I'd  be  particularly  restless  when  a 
new  year  was  just  beginning.  I'd  hate  to  go  on 
ghosting  for  another  twelvemonth;  and  I  think 
I'd  be  thankful  to  any  one  who'd  happen  in  to  be 
scared.  I'll  get  Miss  Cryden  to  come,  too, '  after  the 
ball  is  over.'  Are  you  willing?" 

Elinor  agreed. 


XIII 

"Yet  no  portentous  shape  the  sight  ama/ed; 
Each  object  plain,  and  tangible,  and  valid:" 

THE  dance  was  not  so  successful  as  that  of 
Christmas  night;  there  were  but  few  men, 
and  those  few  were  not  in  dancing  humor.  Mon- 
sieur de  Folatre  showed  no  disposition  to  make 
himself  agreeable  to  any  save  Miss  Cryden  and 
Elinor;  and  Ulaszlo,  generally  amiably  willing  to 
invite  each  wall-flower  to  dance  in  turn,  seemed 
unable  to  distract  his  attention  from  his  cousin's 
manoeuvres.  By  twelve  o'clock  the  ballroom  was 
deserted. 

Elinor,  mindful  of  her  promise  to  Mr.  Delamere 
to  meet  him  in  the  room  of  the  echo  after  the  ball, 
went  first  to  fetch  the  scarf  that  Alicia  had  gi\en 
her,  since  the  great  room  would  be  fireless  and 
chill,  and  then  to  Winifred's  parlor  expecting  to 
find  her  cousin  awaiting  her.  Learning  from 
Berthe  that  Miss  Cryden  had  already  been  up- 
stairs and  had  gone  down  again,  Elinor  flitted 
hastily  along  the  corridor  of  Villa  Fenice,  and 
down  the  steep  old  staircase  to  the  second  story 
[120] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


landing.  The  door  stood  ajar,  but  the  room  was 
dark.  Elinor  hesitated  an  instant,  then  entered. 
After  a  moment  she  was  able  to  see  objects  quite 
plainly,  because  of  the  light  in  the  hall;  then  she 
heard  a  quick  step  on  the  stairs  and  Mr.  Delamere 
came  in. 

"  I  am  here,"  said  Elinor  very  softly,  "  but  where 
is  Winifred  ?" 

Mr.  Delamere  closed  the  door  carefully,  then 
struck  a  match  and  lighted  a  candle,  placing  it 
upon  the  centre  table. 

"Your  cousin  will  be  here  directly,"  he  said, 
smiling  upon  Elinor.  "Madame  de  Noiraud 
button-holed  her  as  she  was  on  her  way.  She 
motioned  to  me  to  come  along.  I  dare  say  she 
thought  you  might  be  frightened  all  by  yourself. 
Lets  start  in  on  the  echo  now,  or  the  'witching 
hour*  will  be  gone  before  we've  experimented." 

"The  'witching  hour'  lasted  all  night  long 
when  I  was  here,"  said  Elinor.  "There  is  no 
hurry;  and  we  mustn't  disappoint  Winifred." 

Mr.  Delamere  scrutinized  her  carefully  through 
half-closed  lids,  artist  fashion.  "Do  you  know," 
he  said  meditatively,  "I'm  not  sure  that  I  shouldn't 
prefer  painting  you  as  you  are  now,  in  that  black 
frock,  instead  of  the  green!  Would  you  mind 

lifting  that  thin  thing ' 

[121] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"A  scarf,"  Elinor  interpolated  demurely. 

"I  stand  corrected,"  said  the  artist  smiling. 
"Well,  if  you'd  just  throw  that  scarf  lightly  over 
your  head — no,  no,  not  that  way,  you're  hiding 
the  white  flower  in  your  hair,  not  so  far  forward — 
here,  but  let  me  do  it,  please,  I  understand." 

Coming  close,  he  fell  to  arranging  the  filmy  scarf 
to  his  liking,  forgetting  the  echo  in  his  eagerness, 
and  so  evidently  thinking  of  her  but  as  a  model 
that  Elinor  good-naturedly  gave  him  his  way.  She 
stood  rigid  while  with  deft,  accustomed  fingers 
he  made  her  ready  for  the  future  portrait. 

The  two  had  become  friends.  Mr.  Delamere 
was  in  love  with  his  art  and  with  his  wife,  and 
Elinor,  having  discovered  this,  had  given  him  her 
sincere  liking.  The  artist,  in  his  turn,  admired 
the  girl's  perfect  self-poise  and  gentle  dignity,  her 
sunshiny  temperament,  and  willingness  to  please 
and  to  be  pleased.  In  her  frank  companionship 
he  found  the  best  antidote  for  his  constant  home- 
sickness. 

"I'm  not  sure  that  you  oughtn't  to  have  a  bit 
of  blue  about  you,"  he  said,  retreating  and  study- 
ing his  subject  from  a  distance.  "Perhaps  blue 
drapery  behind  you,  a  blue  to  match  and  bring 
out  the  color  of  your  eyes.  You  have  wonderful 
eyes,  Miss  Ladoon." 

[  122] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Elinor  smiled.  "Thank  you,"  she  said,  and  as 
she  spoke  she  nodded  to  him  in  friendly  fashion. 

"O-o-h!"  sighed  the  artist.  "You're  my  joy 
and  my  despair.  I  thought  I  wanted  you  grave, 
and  now  I  want  you  smiling.  For  Heaven's  sake 
don't  laugh,  or  I  shall  want  to  paint  you  laughing! 
Do  you  know  what  would  happen  if  I  did  ?" 

"I  think  you  are  very  amusing,"  said  Elinor, 
and  she  laughed  in  spite  of  herself. 

Mr.  Delamere  laughed,  too.  "There,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "if  I  painted  you  laughing,  every  one 
who  saw  the  portrait  would  laugh  from  sympathy! 
It's  infectious,  your  laughter.  But  your  smile  is 
sad,  Miss  Ladoon;  very  lovely,  but  strangely  sad." 

"Why  strangely  ?"   Elinor  asked,  looking  down. 

"Don't  move,  don't  move,  please!"  Mr.  Dela- 
mere begged.  "Just  keep  as  you  are  for  a  mo- 
ment." He  pulled  out  a  bit  of  paper  and  a  pencil. 
"I  must  have  that  pose.  Eyes  downcast,  pensive 
expression.  Why  is  it  strange  that  your  smile  is 
sad,  Miss  Ladoon  ?  Why  ?  You  are  young, 
beautiful,  and — so  report  has  it — enormously  rich. 
A  sad  smile  is  a  curio  in  your  case.  A  riotously 
arrogant  grin  would  be  more  in  keeping,  to  speak 
vulgarly."  He  tore  up  the  half-begun  sketch  in 
sudden  impatience.  "I  can  do  nothing  here. 
Let's  try  the  echo." 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Elinor  stopped  him.  "I  have  the  disagreeable 
sensation  that  there  is  some  one  in  the  room — 
listening,"  she  said. 

"There  can't  possibly  be,"  Mr.  Delamere  as- 
sured her.  "  But  the  place  is  as  cold  as  a  vault. 
I'd  no  business  to  keep  you  standing  so  quiet  while 
I  studied  your  poses.  I'm  a  selfish  beast.  Wrap 
that  scarf  tight  around  your  shoulders  while  I  run 
and  get  your  cloak  from  Miss  Cryden's  maid.- 
I'll  hurry  up  Miss  Cryden,  too;  it's  high  time  she 
was  here." 

Elinor  did  not  like  to  confess  her  dread  of  be- 
ing left  alone,  as,  unconscious  of  her  fears,  Mr. 
Delamere  hastened  away.  She  stepped  forward 
to  leave  the  room,  thinking  she  would  wait  out- 
side in  the  hall.  As  she  neared  the  door  Mr. 
Delamere  re-entered. 

"The  lights  are  out,"  he  said.  "I  forgot  the 
rule  of  the  house.  Luckily  I  have  a  candle  in  my 
pocket!"  He  drew  out  a  candle  and  lighted  it  at 
the  one  flickering  upon  the  table.  "It's  as  well 
I  came  back,  for  I  find  that  the  key  is  on  the  out- 
side of  the  door.  Will  you  lock  yourself  in  while 
I'm  gone,  or  shall  I  do  the  locking  and  take  the 
key  in  my  pocket  ?  Some  wandering  porter  may 
chance  along,  and  seeing  the  light  under  the  door 
feel  like  investigating." 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Give  the  key  to  me,"  said  Elinor  quickly, 
"and  please  beg  Winifred  to  hurry." 

The  girl  was  ashamed  of  her  fears.  How  ab- 
surd to  have  imagined  that  she  heard  some  one 
breathing!  The  hateful  room  always  got  upon 
her  nerves.  She  would  herself  try  the  echo  while 
Mr.  Delamere  was  gone. 

She  locked  the  door  with  a  firm  hand,  and  re- 
turned to  the  centre-table.  As  she  did  so  a  man 
came  from  behind  the  screen  that  hid  the  door 
communicating  with  the  next  room.  It  was  Mon- 
sieur de  Folatre. 

"Ah,"  exclaimed  Elinor,  as  her  eyes  met  his, 
"then  I  did  hear  some  one!" 

Her  haughty  composure  surprised  de  Folatre. 
He  had  expected  blushing  confusion  certainly, 
terror  perhaps;  he  had  anticipated  an  anxious 
effort  to  hide  this  guilty  and  clandestine  midnight 
assignation  with  the  Englishman,  by  a  pretence 
that  she  had  strayed  by  mistake  (and  alone) 
into  this  unused  room  fancying  it  to  be  a  hall 
leading  somewhither — faltering  out  some  such 
feeble  excuse.  He  had  looked  forward  with  pleas- 
ure to  her  endeavor  to  win  his  secrecy.  It  would 
be  very  agreeable  to  be  coaxed  by  the  sweet-voiced, 
handsome  American  heiress.  Instead,  he  found 
himself  treated  as  an  interloper,  and  he  stood  non- 
plussed, too  much  astonished  to  speak. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Elinor  moved  toward  the  door.  "  I  will  let  you 
out,"  she  said  with  cold  politeness.  "  I  have  locked 
the  door.  I  wish  you  had  spoken  at  once,  Mon- 
sieur de  Folatre;  you  would  have  been  so  much 
more  comfortable.  It  must  have  been  tedious 
hiding  behind  that  screen." 

The  veiled  contempt  in  her  voice  dispelled  de 
Folatre's  embarrassment,  and  stung  him  into  ac- 
tion and  speech.  He  crossed  the  room  quickly 
and  laid  his  hand  upon  hers  as  she  was  turning 
the  key  in  the  lock. 

"One  moment,"  he  said  hotly.  "You  have 
misunderstood.  You  suspect  me  of  being  an 
eavesdropper.  I  claim  the  right  to  explain  my- 
self. I  claim  fair  play." 

Elinor  drew  back  a  step.  "I  am  listening," 
she  said. 

"I  am  at  Hotel  du  Jardin  for  one  night  only, 
Miss  Ladoon,"  he  said  earnestly,  "and  I  was 
given  that  inner  room."  He  nodded  toward  the 
door  behind  the  screen.  "I  heard  voices  in  here 
and,  very  naturally  7  think,  came  out  to  discover 
to  whom  the  voices  belonged.  I  confess" — he 
spoke  slowly — "I  confess  that  I  was  surprised  to 
find  that  Miss  Ladoon  was  chatting  at  this  hour 
— with  a  friend." 

He  smiled  a  little  (he  had  recovered  himself), 
and  the  meaning  expression  in  his  bold  dark  eyes 
[u6] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


was  more  than  unpleasant.  But  Elinor  met  the 
look  fully.  It  seemed  to  the  man  that  she  could 
not  have  understood;  there  was  certainly  only  an 
innocent  wonder  that  was  almost  childish  in  the 
blue  depths  of  her  frank  glance. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  gently,  "it  was  quite 
natural,  as  you  say,  that  you  should  have  been 
curious,  under  the  circumstances."  She,  too, 
smiled  faintly  as  she  spoke,  her  pretty,  sad  smile. 
"  I  suppose  you  know  why  we  came  in  ?  You 
heard  what  we  said  ?" 

"No,  I  did  not,"  Matyas  replied,  with  an  affec- 
tation of  bluff  frankness.  "You  spoke  in  whis- 
pers almost.  I  saw  the  Englishman  helping  you 
with  your  scarf,"  he  added,  watching  her  closely 
as  he  ventured  this. 

"A  crack  in  the  screen,"  Elinor  murmured, 
and  again  she  smiled  slightly. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment.  Matyas  was 
meditating  upon  his  next  move.  Elinor  noted 
that  he  had  managed  to  slip  in  between  her  and 
the  door.  She  turned  to  him,  her  manner  sud- 
denly gracious. 

"Have  you  a  candle  in  your  room,  Monsieur?" 
she  asked. 

"Yes,  two,"  was  the  quick  reply.  He  won- 
dered what  was  coming  next. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Won'tyou  light  me  one,  please?" 

The  request  was  accompanied  by  a  flashing 
glance  of  coquetry  and  a  brilliant  smile  that  no 
one  could  have  called  sad. 

"She  is  coming  to  heel,"  thought  Matyas;  and 
delighted  with  himself  and  his  knowledge  of  wom- 
en, he  asked  in  almost  lover-like  tones  why  she 
wanted  two.  "It's  light  enough  for  me  now,"  he 
murmured. 

Elinor  pouted.  "But  when  I  beg  you  to  get 
another?"  she  whispered.  "Please,  Monsieur 
de  Folatre!" 

She  clasped  her  handsome  hands  and  held  them 
toward  him  pleadingly.  He  could  not  fathom 
the  expression  in  her  eyes,  but  she  charmed  him. 
She  was  worth  while,  this  fast  American  girl.  As- 
suring her  that  he  was  her  willing  slave  and  that 
she  had  but  to  command,  he  hastened  into  the  ad- 
joining room  to  do  her  bidding. 

The  moment  he  vanished  behind  the  screen 
Elinor  softly  unlocked  the  door,  transferring  the 
key  to  the  outside.  Then  crossing  swiftly  to  the 
table  she  drew  the  lighted  candle  from  its  holder, 
and  returning  to  the  door  went  into  the  hall.  She 
heard  de  Folatre  strike  a  match  and  saw  the  light 
of  his  candle  illuminate  the  distant  darkness. 
Crying  clearly  and  recklessly,  "Since  you  have  a 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


light,  good-night!"  she  closed  the  door,  locked 
it,  and  darted  swiftly  up  the  staircase.  She  had 
left  the  key  in  the  lock;  the  prisoner  would  be 
freed  when  he  rang  for  breakfast,  if  Mr.  Dela- 
mere  did  not  unlock  the  door  before.  Fortu- 
nately she  met  the  artist  when  she  was  half-way 
upstairs.  He  told  her  that  Miss  Cryden  thought 
it  too  late  for  their  experiment. 

"  I  am  to  bid  you  good-night  immediately,"  he 
said  smiling.  "Good-night,  Miss  Ladoon!  We 
must  have  a  try  for  the  echo  another  time." 

Walking  carefully  because  of  the  candle,  which 
had  dropped  hot  grease  upon  her  fingers  as  she 
had  fled  upstairs,  Elinor  was  wishing  she  had  not 
gone  to  the  echo  room  without  Winifred  when, 
on  turning  a  corner,  she  almost  collided  with 
Ulaszlo.  It  seemed  to  her  that  this  encounter 
filled  her  cup  of  discomfort  to  overflowing.  Wini- 
fred would  be  indignant  with  her  for  having  been 
caught,  by  a  de  Noiraud,  running  about  the  old 
villa  after  midnight,  far  from  chaperonage  and 
from  her  own  room,  although  it  was  because  of 
Winifred's  failure  to  keep  her  appointment  that 
this  contretemps  had  occurred. 

Bowing  slightly  to  the  young  man,  Elinor  would 
have  passed  on,  but  he  stopped  her,  stepping 
directly  in  her  path.  His  face  was  pale  and 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


set,  and  his  eyes  expressed  cold  disapproval  and 
suspicion. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Mademoiselle?"  he 
demanded  in  low  tones.  "And  where  have  you 
been?" 

Elinor  thought  a  moment  before  answering,  a 
very  fleeting  moment.  It  seeemd  to  Ulaszlo  that 
she  replied  immediately. 

"If  you  were  Anglo-Saxon  I  would  tell  you," 
she  said  gently.  "As  you  are  not,  I  must  not  tell 
you,  for  you  would  not  understand." 

"You  would  tell  your  friend,  Delamere,"  he 
said  with  a  sudden  controlled  fierceness  that 
startled  her;  "Delamere,  but  not  me!" 

"Yes,  I  would  tell  him,"  she  said,  still  speaking 
very  gently,  "and  he  would  understand.  He  is 
my  friend;  my  friend  as  we  Anglo-Saxons  term 
friend.  An  Anglo-Saxon  friend,  Monsieur  de 
Noiraud,  not  a  friend  in  your  unpleasant  meaning 
of  the  word." 

As  she  finished,  the  consciousness  of  the  ex- 
ceeding plainness  of  her  explanation  brought  the 
hot  color  into  her  face.  But  she  looked  him  full 
in  the  eyes  despite  her  painful  blush,  saying  to 
herself  that  it  was  time  that  he  understood  and  that 
he  must  be  obliged  to;  she  would  endure  insolent 
suspicion  no  longer. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Ulaszlo  scrutinized  her  closely  as  though  he 
would  read  her  very  soul,  and  his  expression 
changed.  The  cold  anger  died  away,  replaced  by 
a  look  of  affectionate  admiration.  He  took  her 
hand  in  his  and  held  it  gently. 

"I  love  you,"  he  said  quietly;  "I  love  you  very 
much.  I  have  faith  in  you.  I,  too,  would  be- 
come an  American,  and  I  would  learn  your  Amer- 
ican thoughts  and  ways." 

Elinor  stood  as  in  a  dream.  His  touch  upon 
her  hand  dominated  her.  The  desire  to  hasten 
to  the  safety  of  her  room  was  gone.  She  looked 
into  the  young  man's  long,  dark  eyes,  forgetful  of 
the  lateness  of  the  hour,  of  Winifred's  displeasure, 
forgetful,  in  short,  of  everything  save  a  sensation 
of  well-being  and  serenity.  But  the  foreigner  re- 
membered. 

"Good-night,  Mademoiselle  Nellee,"  he  said 
softly,  using  her  nickname  for  the  first  time, 
"good-night!  I  wish  you  sweet  repose." 

He  bowed  himself  away  and  Elinor,  still  dreamy, 
went  slowly  to  her  room.  To  her  surprise  she 
found  Winifred  awaiting  her. 

"Yes,  I'm  here,"  said  Miss  Cryden  impatiently, 
"  and,  of  course,  you  are  astonished  to  see  me,  and 
wondering  why  I  didn't  join  you  as  I  promised. 
That  dreadful  old  de  Noiraud  woman  pounced 

•    1 131 1 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


upon  me  as  I  was  passing  the  door  of  her  room, 
and  I  was  just  shaking  her  off  when  he  began  to 
play.  Elinor,"  she  advanced  close  to  the  young 
girl  and  caught  her  hand — "Elinor,  you  may  be- 
lieve me  or  not  as  you  choose,  but  I  simply  couldn't 
bear  to  come  away!  And  the  queer  part  of  it  is 
that  I  hate  the  flute;  a  silly,  gurgling,  sloppily 
sentimental  instrument;  the  last  thing  a  manly 
man  should  play  upon.  But  there,  what's  the 
use  of  talking  about  it!  I  stayed  on  and  on,  just 
as  if  I  were  bewitched.  And  I  believe  I  am — yes, 
I  certainly  am.  For  although  I  know  how  per- 
fectly unworthy  he  is,  not  in  the  least  intelligent, 
and  I've  met  lots  of  men  far  handsomer,  yet  for 
all  that " 

She  broke  off  abruptly  and  began  to  pace  up 
and  down  the  room,  coming  to  a  stand  at  last 
directly  before  Elinor. 

"Nelly,"  she  said  wistfully,  "tell  me,  do  you 
feel  his  strange  fascination  ?  You  never  look  as 
though  you  did,  you're  always  so  composed  and 
at  your  ease  when  you're  with  him.  Nelly,  do 
you  understand  my  feelings  at  all  ?  Tell  me." 

"Perfectly,"  said  Elinor  quietly.  "Just  now 
he  held  my  hand — I  met  him  in  the  corridor — 
and  told  me  that  he  loved  me,  and " 

"What!"    exclaimed   Winifred    sharply.     "He 

[  '32  1 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


told  you  that  he — he  told  you — "  She  sank  into 
a  chair  as  though  her  limbs  refused  to  support 
her. 

"He  didn't  mean  it,"  said  Elinor  hastily.  "He 
doesn't  care  a  button  for  me,  Winifred.  He  was 
only  afraid  Monsieur  de  Folatre  was  cutting  him 
out." 

"Are  you  sure?"   Miss  Cryden  gasped. 

"  Perfectly  sure"  was  the  reply.  "  I  only  wished 
you  to  know  that  although  I  care  nothing  for 
Monsieur  Laszlo  I  feel  the  fascination  you  speak 
of.  What  is  more,"  she  said  firmly,  "if  I  don't 
stop  feeling  it  I  shall  soon  detest  him.  I  hate 
the  sensation — after  it  is  over.  And  as  for  his 
playing,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Winifred,  I  under- 
stand and  believe  in  the  charm  possessed  by  the 
Pied  Piper.  I  wish,  with  all  my  heart,  that  you 
would  give  up  your  plan.  Please,  please  do,  my 
dear  cousin!"  She  spoke  gently,  persuasively. 
"  It  is  really — don't  be  angry,  Winifred — a  foolish 
little  plan.  Why  do  you  care  about  these  for- 
eigners ?  They  are  nothing  to  you  and  me." 

But  Miss  Cryden  hardly  listened.  "He  is  like 
the  Pied  Piper  in  coming  from  Transylvania," 
she  said.  "I  had  a  letter  about  the  de  Noiraud 
family  this  morning.  You  mustn't  tell,  Elinor,  but 
I've  sent  some  one  to  learn  their  past  history.  I 

[133] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


know  it  must  be  peculiar — at  any  rate,  I  want  to 
know  all  about  them.  It  is  necessary,"  she 
laughed  disagreeably,  "since  they  evidently  wish 
my  near  kin  to  enter  their  family." 

"Whom  have  you  sent,  Winifred  ?"  Elinor 
asked.  She  was  extremely  uncomfortable  over 
this  new  eccentricity. 

"They  have  people  in  Paris  who  attend  to  such 
things,"  Miss  Cryden  said  shortly.  "And  I  don't 
hesitate  to  say  that  I  hope  my  envoy  will  find  out 
something  disgraceful.  Who  are  they,  forsooth,  to 
pick  and  choose  among  us  well-born  Americans  ? 
I  should  like  to  teach  them  a  lesson.  If  Laszlo 
has  spoken  so  plainly  to  you,  I  suppose  the  old 
people  will  speak  to  me  to-morrow.  I  shall  ask 
for  time  to  think  it  over,  and  you  must  do  the 
same;  or,  better  still,  Nelly,"  she  hesitated,  "do 
not  let  him  say  such  things  to  you  again,  keep 
him  at  arm's-length,  do  you  hear  ?  No,  no,  I 
don't  mean  that  exactly,  of  course  you  must  go  on, 
but  I  wish,  I  wish — oh,  what's  the  use  of  wish- 
ing! Good-night!"  She  left  the  room  abruptly. 


XIV 

"Guido.  'It  is  no  tree, 

Marina,  but  a  shape — the  awful  shape, 

.  .  .  Seest  thou  not  his  shade 
Darken  before  his  steps  ?'..." 

"HOTEL  DU  JARDIN, 
"  VILLA-DE-PLAISIR,  FRANCE, 

"January  19, . 

"DEAREST  ALICIA: 

"TN  my  last  letter — I  wrote  last  Sunday  (as 
JL  usual)  I  think — I  told  you  of  Monsieur  and 
Madame  de  Noiraud's  formal  proposal  for  my 
heart,  and  hand,  and  vast  dowry.  Winifred  has 
asked  for  time,  and  she  has,  I  am  sure,  told  them 
hundreds  of  tarradiddles  that  she  has  not  di- 
vulged to  me.  But  I  know  they  believe  that  she 
has  written  to  consult  Mr.  Ferrars.  As  they  con- 
sider this  the  proper  course,  they  are,  all  three, 
apparently  quite  willing  to  await  his  decision. 
The  aunt  is  more  than  willing  I  suspect.  Indeed, 
/  believe  that  she  would  prefer  to  keep  her  hand- 
some nephew  tied  firmly  to  her  apron-strings  for- 
ever. 

"Ulaszlo  seems  really  amiable,  but  I  can't  quite 
like  him  because  of  the  influence  he  has  over  me. 

[135] 


AN  OLD   MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Something  away  down  within  me — the  American 
spirit  of  independence,  perhaps — makes  me  re- 
sent this  curious  domination.  The  strange  thing 
is  that  this  domination  increases.  I  have  begun 
to  think  of  him  all  the  time.  He  has,  'cast  the 
glamour  o'er  me,  O.' 

"This  line  keeps  running  through  my  head.  I 
wish  I  knew  where  it  comes  from.  It  is  from 
some  old  ballad,  but  I  forget  what  ballad,  and 
who  'cast  the  glamour,'  and  why  it  was  cast,  and 
over  whom.  Perhaps  you  can  help  me,  Alicia  ? 

"Poor  little  Berthe  had  a  severe  fright  last 
Sunday  night.  Winifred  gave  her  permission  to 
go  down  to  Ville-de-Plaisir  for  the  afternoon  and 
evening — you  know  Sunday  is  their  gala  day. 
She  went  with  some  of  the  other  servants  but  re- 
turned alone,  they  wishing  to  stay  later  than  she 
could  as  she  had  to  get  back  in  time  to  make  Wini- 
fred's toilet  for  the  night. 

"(I  did  Winifred's  hair  for  dinner,  and  hooked 
up  her  bodice,  but  she  would  not  let  me  play  maid 
longer.  I  would  gladly  have  done  it,  little  Berthe 
has  been  so  devoted  to  me,  but  I  fancy  Winifred 
did  not  wish  me  further  initiated  into  the  mys- 
teries of  eyebrows  and  complexion!  I  am  sorry 
I  wrote  that.  It  sounds  spiteful  and  catty. 
Please  play  that  I  did  not,  Alicia  miaf) 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"To  go  on  about  little  Berthe. 

"The  tram  was  overcrowded,  so  she  walked 
home  and  took  the  shortest  cut,  which  is  through 
a  high-walled  lane  (past  the  door  of  the  old  con- 
vent) which  leads  to  the  boarded-up  gate  at  the 
bottom  of  the  garden.  She  expected  to  enter 
there — by  the  side  entrance  of  which  I  have 
written  you,  steps  leading  up  to  an  opening  in  the 
wall — but  she  saw  two  men  lurking  inside  under 
the  cypresses,  so  she  went  on  into  the  Monk's 
Walk. 

"  Berthe  says  that  it  was  like  entering  a  cavern, 
it  was  so  pitchy  black,  and  she  had  walked  a 
quarter  the  length  of  the  allee  before  her  eyes  be- 
came accustomed  to  the  darkness.  Then  she 
thought  she  saw  some  one  coming  toward  her, 
down  the  allee,  and  when  she  became  certain  that 
this  was  the  case  she  slipped  in  between  the 
cypress  trunks,  hoping  to  remain  unnoticed  until 
the  person  had  passed  by.  The  shape  advanced 
slowly,  very  slowly,  and  when  it  was  close  upon 
her  she  became  aware  that  it  was  the  figure  of  a 
cowled  monk.  Poor  Berthe  declares  that  it  must 
have  been  the  ghost,  since  it  made  no  sound. 
Not  a  pebble  stirred  beneath  its  tread,  not  a  rustle 
of  the  black  robe  was  to  be  heard.  Noiseless, 
terrible,  it  glided  past  her  and  disappeared. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Berthe  ran  home  completely  upset.  Unfor- 
tunately she  met  some  of  the  old  servants  on  en- 
tering the  house,  and  they  confirmed  her  in  her 
foolish  belief  that  she  had  seen  the  monk  of  the 
Monk's  Walk.  He  is  said  to  be  the  herald  of 
misfortune.  During  the  year  in  which  he  ap- 
pears something  terrible  will  happen  at  Villa 
Fenice. 

"This  is  the  story  told,  sub  rosa,  and  in  whispers: 

"Years  ago,  when  the  villa  belonged  to  the 
Fenice  family  the  reigning  marchese,  having  no 
son  to  inherit,  adopted  his  sister's  son  to  be  his  heir 
and  his  son-in-law — for  there  was  one  daughter. 
This  poor  girl  was  not  only  plain  looking  and 
older  than  her  cousin,  but  was  lacking  in  intelli- 
gence as  well.  The  young  man  accepted  the  sit- 
uation cheerfully,  however,  until  a  certain  fatal 
morning  in  January  when,  his  uncle  and  his  be- 
trothed having  gone  to  Rome  for  a  month's  visit, 
he  was  left  alone  at  the  villa. 

"He  was  strolling  down  through  the  garden  on 
his  way  to  the  then  small  village,  Ville-de-Plaisir, 
when  as  he  neared  the  now-boarded-up  gate  it 
opened,  and  a  beautiful  girl,  accompanied  by  an 
old  man-servant,  entered.  She  was  an  English 
girl  and  rarely  lovely,  with  golden  hair  and  soft 
blue  eyes.  Young  di  Fenice  received  her  with 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


great  courtesy  (she  had  come  to  see  the  far- 
famed  garden),  acting  the  part  of  host  with  so 
much  charm  that  she  lingered  long.  When  she 
left  she  had  her  arms  full  of  flowers,  and  among 
them — so  runs  the  tale — was  the  young  man's 
heart. 

"He  fell  madly  in  love,  and  she,  in  her  gentle 
way,  returned  his  passion.  She  was  a  fragile 
creature.  Her  father  had  taken  a  villa  on  the 
hillside  across  the  valley,  that  this  only  and  adored 
daughter  might  escape  the  rigors  of  an  English 
winter.  Poor  child,  she  might  better  have  re- 
mained at  home!  The  month's  absence  of  the 
marchese  and  his  daughter  proved  a  fatal  month 
to  her. 

"For  the  young  Italian  did  not  tell  of  his  be- 
trothal to  his  cousin,  but  pushed  his  suit  with  the 
English  girl,  even  writing  to  her  father,  who  was 
in  England,  to  ask  for  her  hand.  When  the 
marchese  returned  the  young  man  told  him  all, 
begging  to  be  released  from  his  engagement.  He 
begged  in  vain. 

"  Indignant,  furious,  the  marchese  not  only  for- 
bade his  nephew  to  think  again  of  the  English 
girl,  but  he  himself  visited  her  and  denounced 
her  as  an  adventuress,  striving  to  ally  herself  with 
a  noble  family.  The  young  di  Fenice,  going  to 

[  '39] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


see  her  to  confess  his  wrong-doing  and  to  beg  her 
to  wait  for  him  (for  he  still  believed  that  he  might 
free  himself),  found  her  too  ill  to  receive  him.  The 
furious  upbraiding  of  the  marchese  had  proved 
too  great  a  shock  for  so  sensitive,  so  fragile  a 
creature.  Her  father  had  been  summoned  from 
England;  the  worst  was  feared. 

"This  the  old  man-servant  who  had  served  as 
chaperon  to  the  lovers  told  the  agonized  di  Fenice, 
who  went  home  crazed  with  anger  and  grief. 
The  marchese  was  out,  and  returning  late  found 
his  nephew  awaiting  him  in  the  old  salon.  What 
passed  between  them  was  never  known,  but  the 
nephew  left  the  house  that  night  and  did  not  re- 
visit it  for  a  long  time. 

"The  English  girl  died  shortly  after,  and  it 
was  rumored  in  the  country-side  that  young  di 
Fenice  had  taken  the  vows  and  become  a  monk. 

"The  middle  of  the  following  January  a  ser- 
vant, coming  home  late  from  junketing  in  the 
town,  was  overtaken  and  passed  by  a  black-robed 
monk  in  the  cypress  allee.  An  hour  later  a  pis- 
tol shot  rang  out  from  the  salon  where  the  mar- 
chese had  been  sitting  over  the  fire  all  alone.  The 
servants  hurrying  thither  found  the  door  locked 
and,  so  stern  a  master  was  the  Italian,  they  dared 
not  knock  and  ask  leave  to  enter.  In  the  morning 

[ 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


when  the  door  was  still  fastened  they  ventured  to 
knock  loudly,  loudly,  and  to  call  out  to  him  to 
answer.  Then  they  broke  the  door  down,  to 
find  him  dead,  with  a  bullet  in  his  heart. 

"He  was  buried  in  the  tomb  in  the  garden — 
yes,  Alicia,  it  was  a  tomb — but  his  ghost  was  said 
to  walk  and  no  servants  would  stay  in  the  villa. 
So,  later,  the  body  was  laid  in  consecrated  ground. 

"It  is  thought  that  the  nephew,  seeking  ven- 
geance upon  the  man  whom  he  considered  the 
murderer  of  his  beloved,  visited  and  shot  his  uncle; 
and  that,  as  a  cowled  monk,  his  shape  still  comes 
again  to  Villa  Fenice  on  the  first  month  of  a  year 
that  is  bringing  misfortune.  Until  the  misfortune 
arrives  he  haunts  the  place,  his  old  desire  for 
vengeance  calling  him  from  his  unknown  grave. 

"I  do  not  wonder  poor  little  Berthe  was  terri- 
fied, do  you  ?  Mr.  Delamere  thinks  of  painting 
another  picture  of  the  Monk's  Walk.  He  wants 
it  in  the  early  gloaming,  with  the  monk  lurking 
in  the  shadows  of  the  old  cypress  trees. 

"Laszlo,  in  his  odd,  foreign  way,  is  'paying 
court'  to  me,  and  I  find  it  pleasant.  Nay,  more. 
I  understand  how  American  girls  fall  in  love  with 
foreigners  and  marry  them;  they  are  so  soft- 
voiced,  so  gentle,  so  charmingly  devoted.  But  I, 
perhaps  because  of  untoward  experience,  have 

[HI] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


grown  suspicious.    Ulaszlo  seemsy  as  I  said  before, 
really  amiable — but  is  he  ? 

"Mr.  Ferrars  is  so  kind.  I  think  he  was  very 
good  to  be  willing  to  become  my  guardian.  I 
am  keeping  his  letters  for  you  to  read.  They  are 
so  entertaining,  so  really  witty,  that  I  know  you 
will  enjoy  them. 

"Your  loving 

"NELLY. 

"P.  S. — Have  you  heard  anything  of  Maynard 
lately  ?  I  wonder  if  he  is  still  in  France.  Poor 
Maynard!" 


[  142] 


XV 

'  'One  should  master  one's  passions  (love  is  chief)* 
And  be  loyal  to  one's  friends!'  ' 

MATYAS  DE  FOLATRE  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  denying  himself  any  pleasure  that 
he  thought  attainable;  and  a  pleasure  that  had  to 
be  struggled  for  was  a  double  pleasure  to  him,  for 
he  delighted  in  a  certain  kind  of  battle.  "All's 
fair  in  love  and  war,"  might  have  served  him  as 
motto.  He  had  plenty  of  courage  of  the  wrong 
kind,  for  he  feared  neither  man  nor  devil.  (And, 
surely  it  is  as  well  to  stand  in  awe  of  Satanas  and 
to  be  on  one's  guard  lest  he  do  one  an  ill  turn!) 

Elinor  interested  Matyas  the  more  that  he  had 
misunderstood  her  frank  ways.  Her  meeting  with 
Mr.  Delamere  had  convinced  him  that  she  was 
no  innocent  girl,  but  a  woman  of  many  expe- 
riences. He  had  not  believed  for  a  moment  that 
Miss  Cryden  was  expected  to  join  the  two  upon 
whom  he  had  played  the  spy  in  the  room  of  the 
echo  (the  old  salon);  and  it  had  become  the  de- 
sire of  his  heart  to  return  to  Hotel  du  Jardin  and 
pit  himself  against  the  Englishman. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Young  Madame  de  Folatre  was  summoned  to 
England.  Her  great  aunt,  a  lady  of  vast  wealth, 
was  ill  and  wished  much  to  see  her.  Monsieur 
de  Folatre  dutifully  accompanied  his  wife  to  Eng- 
land, then,  complaining  of  a  weak  chest,  betook 
himself  to  the  south  of  France,  ostensibly  in  search 
of  sunshine. 

He  was  not  received  cordially  by  his  relatives. 
Monsieur  de  Noiraud  growled  out  his  disapproval 
of  his  nephew's  return  in  the  deep  tones  of  an  en- 
raged bear,  his  fat,  round  face  heavy  with  anger. 
Madame's  high  aquiline  nose  grew  hooky  in  out- 
line as  she  pecked  questions  at  the  intermeddler. 
Why  had  he  returned  ?  Was  it  for  gambling  ? 
The  carnival  ?  But  the  carnival  was  over  two 
weeks  distant! 

Ulaszlo,  receiving  his  cousin  with  his  usual  quiet 
gentleness  of  manner,  began  at  once  to  hate  him 
with  all  the  intensity  of  a  weak  nature.  Divorce 
was  now  the  fashion,  he  said  to  himself.  Perhaps 
Matyas  desired  to  oblige  his  wife  to  divorce  him 
that  he  might  marry  the  agreeable  American  heir- 
ess. Matyas  wearied  of  everything.  His  lovely 
young  wife  doubtless  ennuied  him.  An  American 
would  be  a  piquant  change. 

Monsieur  de  Folatre  pretended  not  to  observe 
the  unfriendly  reception  accorded  him.  He  took 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


the  disapproval  of  his  uncle  and  aunt  laughingly, 
as  a  jest,  thereby,  of  course,  irritating  them  the 
more;  but  this  did  not  trouble  him.  If  Uncle 
Ulaszlo  chose  to  leave  him  money  he  would  do  so, 
Matyas  assured  himself,  despite  a  little  ruffling  of 
the  temper;  if,  again,  he  were  disposed  to  leave 
all  to  Laszlo,  he  would  carry  out  his  plan  even 
were  he,  Matyas,  subservient  to  the  uncle's  every 
whim.  Better  take  present  pleasure,  instead  of 
thinking  of  future  gain. 

"Will  you  show  me  the  garden,  Miss  Ladoon  ?" 
Matyas  asked,  on  the  afternoon  following  his  ar- 
rival. "My  visit  before  was  so  hasty  I  did  not 
see  it  thoroughly." 

Elinor  had  come  downstairs  to  mail  some  let- 
ters for  Winifred.  It  was  four  o'clock,  and  the 
sun  was  already  sinking  behind  the  western  hill 
across  the  valley. 

"I  must  ask  my  chaperon,"  she  said  demurely. 

"I  will  take  you  up  in  the  lift,"  said  Matyas, 
"and  wait  to  see  if  I  am  to  be  made  happy — or 
the  reverse." 

"I  like  the  way  you  talk,"  Elinor  said  as  she 
entered  the  elevator.  "The  mixture  of  perfect 
English  and  foreign  flattery  is  very  charming, 
Monsieur  de  Folatre." 

"It  is  no  flattery,"  Matyas  replied  as  he  stepped 

[145] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


in  after  her.  "I  do  not  flatter  when  I  say  that 
to  be  with  you  is  a  happiness,  and  to  be  without 
you  the  reverse." 

"That  sounds  very  nice,"  Elinor  said  serenely. 
"  I  love  bonbons  of  speech  as  well  as  of  chocolate, 
Monsieur.  How  well  you  manage  the  elevator! 
If  you  were  the  'boy'  in  charge  the  thing  would  be 
overcrowded,  all  the  ladies  in  the  hotel  going  up 
and  down  incessantly  because  of  your  beaux  yeux. 
You  have  such  very  handsome  eyes,  Monsieur  de 
Folatre." 

Matyas  smiled.  "You  are  very  clever,  Miss 
Ladoon,"  he  said,  "I  must  be  careful  how  I  pay 
compliments  in  future,  I  see.  I  can't  have  you 
making  too  much  fun  of  me.  But  I  do  like  to  be 
with  you  very  much." 

"Naturally,"  Elinor  acquiesced  composedly. 
"It  is  always  interesting  to  meet  a  perfectly  new 
kind  of  bird,  or  beast,  or  human  being.  I  am  the 
first  American  thrown  in  your  way.  Take  out 
your  microscope,  Monsieur.  May  I  prove  worthy 
of  study!"  And  the  elevator  coming  to  a  stand- 
still she  went  to  Winifred's  parlor  to  ask  what 
she  should  do. 

Miss  Cryden  was  seated  in  an  easy-chair  with 
her  feet  on  top  of  the  coil  of  hot-water  pipes.  She 
was  groaning  as  Elinor  entered. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Thank  Heaven  it's  you,  Nelly,"  she  ejaculated. 
"Do  come  and  lift  my  feet  down.  My  legs  have 
stiffened  and  gone  to  sleep,  I've  sat  here  so  long 
thinking,  thinking!  Oh,  be  careful,  it's  ag — ony!" 

This  she  shrieked  as  Elinor  obeyed,  lifting 
down  a  pair  of  slender  legs  encased  in  red  silk 
stockings  clocked  in  gold,  terminated  by  two 
small  feet  shod  with  red,  high-heeled  slippers 
ornamented  with  gold  buckles.  While  she  slowly 
rubbed  her  slumbering  members  Elinor  told  her 
of  Monsieur  de  Folatre's  invitation. 

"He  is  waiting  for  me  in  the  elevator,"  she  said. 

"Let  him  wait,"  snapped  Miss  Cryden  crossly. 

"How  long?"  demanded  Elinor  indifferently. 

Miss  Cryden  smiled,  her  ill-humor  fled.  "You 
do  me  good,  Nelly,"  she  said,  beaming  upon  the 
girl,  "you  really  care  so  little  about  any  of  them!" 

"I  care  to  do  what  you  wish,  Winnie,"  was  the 
polite  reply,  "and  it  occurs  to  me  that  Monsieur 
Laszlo  would  dislike  any  favor  shown  his  cousin. 
Which  one  am  I  to  please — Matyas  or  Ulaszlo?" 

As  she  finished  speaking  Berthe  tapped  and 
entered. 

"What  do  you  want,  Berthe?"  her  mistress 
demanded.  "We  are  busy.  Go  away!" 

"The  two  messieurs  quarrel  by  the  ascenseur" 
Berthe  announced,  ignoring  Miss  Cryden's  out- 

[147] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


burst,  "and  those  waiting  below  to  ascend  ring 
and  ring  in  vain!"  She  giggled  delightedly.  "And 
it  is  against  the  rules  for  any  save  the  employees 
of  the  house  to  make  to  mount  the  ascenseur,  but 
none  heed  the  ringing,  the  preparations  for  after- 
noon tea  preventing — the  garcons  are  so  careless!" 
and  again  she  giggled.  "They  quarrel  quietly, 
yet  fiercely,  very,  ces  deux  messieurs!" 

"Enough,  Berthe" — Miss  Cryden  spoke  with 
great  dignity — "pray  leave  us.  You  know  I  dis- 
approve of  tale-bearing."  Then,  as  the  door 
closed  behind  the  rebuked  maid  her  manner 
changed.  "She  means  Laszlo  and  Matyas,  Eli- 
nor! Accept  the  invitation  to  walk,  by  all  means, 
and  stay  out  over  tea  time  and  bring  him  up  here 
at  half-past  five  for  tea  with  me." 

"Very  well,"  said  Elinor  obediently.  "But 
what  shall  I  do  if  Laszlo  tags  on  ?" 

"Let  him  tag,"  was  the  sharp  answer.  "And 
be  sure  you  speak  English  with  de  Folatre — that 
will  drive  Laszlo  wild.  Wait,  1  want  you  to  wear 
my  black  velvet  cloak,  it  is  so  becoming  with  all 
its  lace  trimmings;  you  won't  need  a  hat,  will 
you  ?  No  ?  I  thought  not.  Berthe,  Berthe,  my 
black  velvet  cloak  for  Mademoiselle!" 

"Am  I  to  treat  them  alike,"  Elinor  inquired, 
"equally  civil  to  each  ?" 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Miss  Cryden  pondered  a  moment.  "Save  for 
speaking  English,  yes,"  she  said.  "And  pretend 
that  you  drop  into  that  from  forgetfulness.  Does 
— does  Laszlo  begin  to  care  for  you,  Elinor,  do 
you  think  ?" 

"He  is  a  riddle,"  said  Elinor  truthfully;  "a 
riddle  that  I  cannot  read."  With  the  cloak  over 
her  arm  she  left  the  room. 

She  found  the  two  cousins  in  the  hall  awaiting 
her.  If  they  had  been  quarrelling  they  showed 
no  traces  of  it  in  their  manner;  each  man  looked 
smiling  and  sufficiently  content,  as  each  stepped  for- 
ward to  relieve  her  from  the  burden  of  her  cloak. 
She  looked  at  Ulaszlo  with  a  charming  smile  of 
greeting,  and  she  yielded  the  cloak  to  Matyas. 

"I  will  walk  down,"  she  said,  and  descended 
the  staircase  with  a  cousin  on  either  side.  The 
girl  was  amused;  her  spirits  rose;  a  pretty  color 
appeared  in  her  cheeks. 

When  they  stepped  out  upon  the  terrace  Matyas 
turned  to  his  cousin  saying:  " Au  revoir,  mon 
cher!" 

"I  am  not  to  come  ?"  Ulaszlo  asked  sorrowful- 
ly, his  long,  bright  eyes  fixed  upon  Elinor's.  "  You 
do  not  desire  my  company,  Mademoiselle  La- 
doon  ?  I  shall  not  take  my  conge  from  him,  I 
assure  you." 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


The  feeling  she  dreaded  came  over  Elinor. 
She  found  herself  wishing  to  have  Ulaszlo  with 
her.  Remembering  Winifred's  orders  she  won- 
dered how  she  might,  at  this  juncture,  obey  them. 
How  to  be  equally  civil  to  each  man  was  a  prob- 
lem— and  Ulaszlo's  influence  was  already  upon 
her. 

"And  cast  the  glamour  o'er  her,  O,"  she  caught 
herself  murmuring. 

Matyas  suddenly  thrust  himself  in  front  of  his 
cousin. 

"Stop  staring  at  Mademoiselle,  Laszlo,"  he 
laughingly  commanded.  "That  is  a  bad  habit 
of  which  you  should  break  yourself.  Come,  Miss 
Ladoon,"  he  said  in  English,  "tell  this  rude  fel- 
low that  it  is  with  me  you  have  promised  to  walk." 

"I,  too,  spik  Eenglis,"  cried  Ulaszlo,  gaining 
Elinor's  side.  "Mees,  dear  mees,  spik,  I  beg, 
je  vous  en  prle!  Say  I  come  weez  you.  Ah, 
spik — I  hang  suspended  to  your  lips!" 

Matyas  burst  into  wild  and  frantic  laughter. 
"Pardon,  pardon,"  he  ejaculated,  while  in  reality 
he  made  no  effort  to  check  his  mirth.  "I  cannot 
help  laughing,  Laszlo,  your  English  is  so  horrible." 

"Do  not  believe  him,  Monsieur  de  Noiraud," 
said  Elinor  kindly,  her  blue  eyes  brimming  with 
tears  from  her  endeavor  to  suppress  her  own 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


laughter.  "You  speak  English  quite  as  well, 
indeed,  far  better  than  I  speak  French." 

She  was  greatly  pleased  to  discover  that  his 
broken  English  had  dispelled  his  charm.  It  did 
not  matter  to  her  now  whether  he  came  with  them 
or  not.  She  had  recovered  her  self-poise.  But 
without  a  word  of  thanks  for  her  tactful  sympathy 
the  angry  young  man  turned  and  walked  rapidly 
into  the  house. 

"A  dear  fellow,"  was  de  Folatre's  suave  com- 
ment as  they  entered  the  nearest  alley,  "but  with 
the  temper  of  the  devil.  He  loses  his  head,  as 
the  English  say,  when  he  is  in  a  passion.  Fortu- 
nately he's  rarely  in  a  temper.  I  should  be  very 
sorry  for  any  woman  who  married  Ulaszlo,  much 
as  I  love  him.  He's  not  fit  to  be  intrusted  with 
a  woman's  happiness." 

"Few  men  are,"  said  Elinor  quietly. 

"That  is  painfully  true,"  was  the  quick,  grave 
answer.  "And  our  marriage  system  is  wrong, 
Miss  Ladoon,  radically  wrong.  A  man  is  ex- 
pected to  marry  the  girl  chosen  for  him  by  his 
parents.  This  unknown  quantity  is  to  be  his 
companion  through  life.  It  is  equally  hard,  nay, 
harder,  I  grant,  on  the  woman  than  on  the  man. 
The  chains  gall  her  sensitive  nature  more  heavily, 
of  course.  But  still  the  man  has  something  to  en- 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


dure.  I  hope  that — should  you  ever  hear  of  fric- 
tion between  man  and  wife  in  our  world — you  will 
accord  a  little  of  your  sweet  sympathy  to  us  men." 
He  paused,  hesitating,  then  said  with  a  glance 
of  deep  meaning:  "We  are  not  all  so  black  as 
we  are  painted,  Miss  Ladoon.  Some  among  us 
relieve  our  wives  of  our  tedious  selves  whenever 
we  can;  that,  at  least,  should  stand  to  our  credit." 

Elinor,  while  wondering  why  she  was  being 
favored  with  this  disquisition  on  the  foreign  mar- 
riage system,  thought  with  a  certain  bitter  amuse- 
ment of  her  own  experience  with  the  Bertrams. 
Maynard  was,  very  likely,  at  that  very  moment 
paying  court  to  the  well-dowered  Miss  Gillespie 
— selected  for  him  by  his  parents.  Some  Ameri- 
cans were  very  like  their  foreign  acquaintances  in 
regard  to  marriage  making.  But  this  she  did  not 
tell  her  companion.  If  there  were  faults  among 
her  compatriots  she  would  be  the  last  to  point 
them  out.  She  felt  contempt  for  Monsieur  de 
Folatre's  effort  to  blacken  his  cousin  in  her  eyes. 
It  was  underhand  and  mean. 

"It  is  foolish  to  marry  for  money,"  she  said 
coldly.  "Should  the  gold  vanish  what  is  there 
left  ?  I  love  this  statue  of  Mother  Ceres"  (chang- 
ing the  subject  and  pausing  to  look  up  at  the  gray, 
moss-grown  goddess,  guarding  the  steps  they  were 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


descending),  "she  has  such  a  grandly  beneficent 
air!  If  you  come  this  way  you  shall  see  an  arbor 
made  entirely  of  ivy — the  trunk  of  the  vine  is 
gigantic — and  from  its  round  windows  you  can 
look  down  into  the  Monk's  Walk." 

It  was  as  she  said.  The  vine  in  its  luxuriance 
had  hidden  the  trellis  completely,  and  from  the 
round  windows  one  looked  sharply  down  into 
the  Monk's  Walk.  As  the  young  people  peeped 
out  a  man  strolled  past  below. 

"Mr.  Delamere!"  exclaimed  Elinor.  "He  must 
be  going  to  paint  in  the  gloaming.  The  shad- 
ows already  fall  heavily,  and  how  chilly  it  is! 
Come,  let  us  go  down  through  the  garden  and 
meet  him." 

"I  think  he  was  not  alone,"  said  Matyas.  "I 
think  that  there  was  some  one  walking  beside 
him,  close  to  the  bank.  Do  not  let  us  go.  I  do 
not  wish  to  see  Mr.  Delamere.  I  am  not  here  be- 
cause of  him,  Miss  Ladoon." 

But  Elinor  hardly  noticed  the  meaning  look 
that  accompanied  his  last  words,  and  what  he 
hinted  so  broadly  fell  upon  deaf  ears. 

"Let  us  go,"  she  said  dreamily,  and  turned  into 
the  alley  edging  the  bank. 

This  walk  was  very  broad,  and  unpaved.  On 
one  side  was  the  sharp  slope  of  the  high  bank 

[153] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


above  the  Monk's  Walk,  but  from  the  alley  one 
could  not  look  down,  as  from  the  ivy  arbor,  into 
the  walk.  Those  below  were  concealed  from 
view;  and  the  bank  was  too  high  and  too  pre- 
cipitous to  be  descended  with  safety.  Along  its 
edge  grew  splendid  forest  trees,  and  it  ended  in  a 
terrace  from  which  was  a  glorious  view  of  the  sea. 

"I  have  a  morbid  desire  to  climb  down  this 
bank,"  said  Elinor,  drawing  near  the  edge.  "An 
absurdly  intense  desire!" 

"Be  careful!"  cried  de  Folatre  catching  her  arm. 
"The  grass  is  slippery.  I  wonder  who  is  with 
Delamere."  He  eyed  the  young  girl  sharply  as 
he  spoke.  "I  am  sure  he  was  not  alone." 

"We  shall  know  presently,"  said  Elinor,  hasten- 
ing her  steps,  and  following  the  terrace  to  the 
paved  alley,  the  only  one  that  led  down  to  the 
closed  gate  with  the  side  egress  from  the  garden. 

"There  is  no  hurry — please  don't  hurry.  Why 
do  you  hurry?"  de  Folatre  remonstrated,  still 
eying  her  curiously.  He  laid  his  hand  upon  her 
arm  and  stopped  her  outright.  "Explain  your 
haste,  I  beg,  Miss  Ladoon.  You  came  to  walk 
with  me;  you  came  to  show  me  the  garden.  And 
now — is  it  to  meet  the  Englishman  ? — you  hurry 
me  past  all  its  beauties.  The  picture  and  the 
painter  will  not  run  away!" 

[•54] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Two  German  ladies  walking  homeward  up  the 
neighboring  alley  glanced  with  sharp  disfavor  at 
the  loiterers,  commenting  contemptuously  upon  the 
free  manners  of  American  girls.  Elinor  did  not 
even  see  them.  She  looked  at  de  Folatre  dreamily. 

"I  was  forgetting  Mr.  Delamere,"  she  said. 

"Then  of  whom,  or  of  what,  are  you  thinking, 
if  I  may  ask?"  Matyas  demanded  irritably. 

Elinor,  visibly  pulling  herself  together,  stood 
still,  reflecting.  A  brilliant  color  swept  over  her 
face  staining  it  from  brow  to  chin.  She  had  dis- 
covered her  secret  thought,  it  seemed,  and  it  had 
failed  to  please  her.  Her  dreamy  manner  van- 
ished; she  glanced  brightly,  smilingly,  at  her 
irritated  companion. 

"I  am  thinking  of  you,  Monsieur  de  Folatre," 
she  said  gayly,  "and  hoping,  as  cicerone,  to  find 
favor  in  your  sight.  A  votre  service,  Monsieur!" 
She  courtesied  low.  "  If  Monsieur  will  follow  this 
way  to  the  grand  gateway,  now  boarded  up,  alas ! 
I  will  have  the  honor  of  relating  to  Monsieur  the 
sad  story  of  the  lovely  young  English  lady." 

Smiling  back  over  her  shoulder  she  lightly  de- 
scended the  steps,  and  passed  on  down  through 
the  terraced  orange  groves  to  the  mass  of  forest 
trees  where  the  garden  ended.  At  the  top  of  the 
steep  flight  of  steps  that  here  leads  down  to  the 

[155] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


gateway  Matyas  caught  up  with  his  laughing 
guide.  He  looked  at  her  strangely. 

"You  carry  out  your  purpose,"  he  said.  "I 
am  not  being  shown  the  garden.  I  understand 
now  why  all  diplomats  are  as  children  in  the  hands 
of  the  statesmen  of  your  country.  You  enchain 
us  and,"  he  gave  her  a  swift,  daring  glance,  "we 
hug  our  chains." 

"This  place  is  always  cold,"  said  Elinor,  paus- 
ing in  the  flagged  square  before  the  gateway, 
"cold,  and  gloomy,  and — and  threatening.  I  sup- 
pose because  of  these  cypresses."  She  glanced 
up  at  their  towering  black  spires  as  she  spoke. 

"You  are  cold  ?"  cried  de  Folatre.  "But  your 
cloak  is  warm!  The  chill  is  from  within.  You 
are  sensitive  to  atmosphere,  and  here  there  is 
something  vaguely  oppressive.  Let  us  return  to 
the  open  spaces  of  the  garden.  On  the  terraces 
there  is  still  light." 

But  Elinor  was  already  descending  the  steps  that 
led  to  the  lowest  terrace.  "We  can  return  through 
the  cypress  allee"  she  said,  waiting  for  Matyas  to 
rejoin  her.  "It  is  lovely  here  upon  this  terrace. 
Part  of  the  avenue  once,  I  fancy.  I  think  they 
must  have  driven  past  the  convent,  along  this  ter- 
race, up  through  the  Monk's  Walk  to  the  Villa 
Fenice.  What  do  you  think,  Monsieur  de  Folatre  ? " 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"  I  think  that  two  men,  not  one  only,  passed  be- 
low us  when  we  were  in  the  ivy  arbor,  Miss  La- 
doon,"  was  the  curious  answer.  "What  do  you 
say?" 

"I  don't  know,"  Elinor  said  slowly.  "I  am  sure 
that  I  do  not  know,  Monsieur  de  Folatre.  If  you 
come  but  three  steps  forward  you  can  look  up  the 
Monk's  Walk  and  make  sure." 

"One  moment!"  cried  Matyas,  stopping  her  as 
she  would  have  walked  on.  "I  will  make  a  wager 
with  you.  I  wager  a  louis  that  there  are  two  men 
in  the  Monk's  Walk,  and  that  one  of  the  men  is 
my  cousin,  Ulaszlo  de  Noiraud.  Will  you  bet 
against  this  supposition,  Miss  Ladoon  ?" 

Elinor  stood  silent.  Again  the  tell-tale  color 
surged  across  her  face,  then  faded  slowly,  leaving 
her  very  pale.  A  strange  expression  came  into  her 
beautiful  eyes;  one  might  have  called  it  a  hunted 
look. 

"The  wager  is  off,"  said  Matyas  suddenly.  He 
spoke  gravely  and  with  marked  courtesy.  "  I  had 
no  right  to  talk  so  foolishly.  I  have  the  empty 
de  Folatre  head,  Miss  Ladoon.  My  mother  was 
born  de  Noiraud,  but  I  am  all  de  Folatre.  I  have 
inherited  none  of  the  de  Noiraud — "  He  hesitated. 
"To  be  sure  I  could  not  have,  since  my  mother" — 
again  he  hesitated.  "I  have  none  of  what  are 

[157] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


called  the  de  Noiraud  peculiarities,  they  come 
from  another  strain  of  blood.  It  is  a  pity,  per- 
haps. Ulaszlo,  par  example,  can  do  much  that  I 
cannot  do;  he  has  many — shall  we  say  qualities? 
yes,  qualities,  that  I  do  not  possess.  You  are 
ready  to  go  on  now,  up  the  Monk's  Walk  ?  The 
slope  is  tiresome  because  the  allee  is  so  long,  not 
that  it  is  really  very  steep.  Ah,  Mr.  Delamere, 
ah,  Laszlo,  here  you  both  are!  I  felt  sure  we 
should  meet  you  here,  my  dear  cousin,  and  I  am 
duly  pleased." 

"It  is  Mademoiselle  Cryden's  kind  wish  that 
we  should  all  drink  tea  with  her  upon  our  re- 
turn," said  Ulaszlo,  coming  close  to  Elinor.  "I 
hope  you  are  not  sorry  to  see  me  so  soon  again, 
Mademoiselle  ?"  There  was  an  anxious  depreca- 
tory expression  in  his  fine  eyes.  He  evidently 
feared  that  he  had  offended  her. 

Elinor  included  the  three  men  in  her  gracious 
smile  as  she  expressed  polite  hopes  that  they 
might  accept  her  cousin's  invitation.  But  all 
three  felt  a  certain  aloofness  in  her  atmosphere, 
and  each  interpreted  it  after  his  own  fashion. 

"I  have  set  her  thinking,"  was  de  Folatre's 
thought. 

"I  have  displeased  her,"  Ulaszlo  said  to  him- 
self. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"These  beastly  foreigners  have  bored  her  to 
death,"  thought  Mr.  Delamere.  "What  a  rotten 
lot  they  are!"  And  he  managed  to  be  her  special 
escort  on  their  walk  back  to  the  hotel. 


[159] 


D 


XVI 

'My  heart  belies  such  lines  of  destiny. 
There  is  no  other  true  interpreter!" 

"HOTEL  DTJ  JARDIN, 
"  VILLE-DE-PLAISIR,  FRANCE. 

EAR  ALICIA: 

cWe  have  been  assisting  to  entertain  Mon- 
sieur de  Folatre!  We  have  been  to  the  Casino  to 
drink  tea  and  gamble.  No,  I  did  not  gamble — for 
myself!  I  put  down  de  Folatre's  money  for  him 
and  he  won,  won,  won.  His  cheeks  grew  red 
with  excitement  and  the  lust  of  gain.  They  have 
the  ' petits  chevaux'  both  at  the  Casino  and  the 
Jetee.  This  last  is  a  huge  pavilion  built  out  over 
the  water.  Music  (classical  music  most  excel- 
lently played),  tea,  and  gambling,  are  to  be  had 
there.  Adjoining  the  Casino  is  a  theatre  where 
the  opera  and  French  plays  are  given. 

"As  I  wrote  you,  I  am  rarely  allowed  to  indulge 
in  the  gayeties  of  the  town.  I  might  meet  ac- 
quaintances who  would  divulge  the  secret  of  my 
broken  fortunes.  I  am  here  for  a  purpose — alas, 
such  a  foolish  purpose! — and  I  must  pursue  it  to 
[160] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


the  bitter  end.  I  am  more  sorry  for  poor  Winifred 
each  day.  She  is  eating  her  heart  out.  Such  a 
bitter,  time-worn,  old,  old,  heart!  But  her  pas- 
sion burns  none  the  less  fiercely  for  that;  age  has 
brought  no  gentle  resignation,  no  softening  of 
temper.  She  has  never  grown  up. 

"Yesterday  morning  Laszlo  was  playing  his 
flute  and  I  accompanying  him  as  usual,  when 
Matyas  came  in.  I  had  forgotten  myself,  stray- 
ing on  and  on  into  the  strange  dreamland  whither 
the  Transylvanian's  magical  music  leads  me.  I 
did  not  notice  de  Folatre's  entrance  until  he  laid 
one  hand  upon  my  shoulder  and  with  the  other 
took  hold  of  the  flute. 

'Wake  up!'   he  said  to  me.     'Stop  dreaming. 
The  sun  is  shining  and  invites  you  out.' 

"I  stared,  still  befogged  but  amazed  by  his 
rudeness.  He  then  addressed  his  cousin. 

; '  I  wonder  at  you,  Laszlo,  keeping  Madem- 
oiselle indoors  this  lovely  morning!  I  think  I  will 
break  your  flute.  Play  me  something,  Madem- 
oiselle, I  beg,  without  Laszlo's  wretched  gurglings. 
Play  me — '  he  scrutinized  me  closely — 'play  "Yan- 
kee Doodle"!' 

'Do  not  play,'  commanded  Laszlo  in  a  low 
voice. 

"I  folded  my  hands  in  my  lap.     I  obeyed  with- 
[161] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


out  even  knowing  that  I  did  so.     Matyas  seized 
one  of  my  hands. 

"  'I  will  tell  your  fortune/  he  said. 

"  'You  cannot — and  shall  not,  Matyas!'  Las- 
zlo  cried,  and  he  caught  my  hand  and  de  Fola- 
tre's  in  both  his  own.  'You  shall  not  read  her 
lines!' 

"Matyas,  with  a  quick  side  movement,  jerked 
his  elbow  into  Laszlo's  chest;  Laszlo,  unprepared, 
started  back,  bringing  me  up  on  my  feet,  for  he 
did  not  release  our  hands.  The  piano  stool  fell 
over  with  a  crash  and  the  noise  served  to  bring 
back  my  wandering  wits. 

"  'You  both  hurt  me!'  I  cried  (I  was  careful 
not  to  meet  Laszlo's  eyes).  'Do  you  wish  to 
crush  my  hand  ?' 

"At  this  they  both  let  go  and  I  went  to  the  win- 
dow and  flung  it  wide,  saying  that  it  was  lovely 
and  I  would  go  out.  But  the  two  men  were  too 
angry  to  hear  me. 

"  'You  reading  hands!*  Laszlo  said  scornfully. 
'Since  when,  I  wonder?  But  anything  to  bring 
yourself  forward!  I  understand  you  well,  my 
cousin.' 

'  'Of  course,  I  cannot  presume  to  read  them 
as  you  can,'  Matyas  retorted  with  biting  civility. 
'You,  of  course,  have  inherited ' 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


'  'Enough,  enough,'  Laszlo  interrupted  quick- 
ly. *  Let  us  say  no  more  on  the  subject.  Madem- 
oiselle Ladoon  wishes  to  walk.  Mademoiselle 
will  permit  me  to  attend  her?'  He  came  close 
beside  me. 

'  I  shall  be  happy  to  have  you,'  I  said  smiling. 
'And  perhaps  you  will  kindly  go  to  Miss  Cryden's 
little  salon  and  ask  her  to  accompany  us  ?  I 
know  she  will  allow  Berthe  to  bring  me  a  light 
wrap  and  a  sunshade.' 

"He  had  to  go,  Alicia,  and  de  Folatre  looked 
triumphant  until  I  sent  him  upstairs  to  fetch  his 
new  cane  to  show  me.  This  is  really  a  weapon. 
He  bought  it  to  carry  when  returning  late  from 
Ville-de-Plaisir.  You  draw  out  its  silver  handle, 
to  which  is  attached  a  piece  of  flexible  braided 
steel — or  some  kind  of  gray  metal — ending  in  a 
solid  lump  of  the  same  metal.  If  you  struck  a 
cutthroat  with  this  it  would  kill  him,  I  think. 

"Ulaszlo  returned  while  Matyas  was  explaining 
its  management  to  me  and  I  asked:  'What  do 
you  carry,  Monsieur  de  Noiraud?' 

" '  He  carries  nothing,'  de  Folatre  answered 
for  him, '  and  I  confess  to  thinking  Laszlo  extreme- 
ly foolish.  Show  Mademoiselle  your  only  weapon; 
show  your  ridiculous  knife,  mon  cousin.1 

"  '  It  is  a  very  little  one,'  said  Laszlo  gently, 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


'but  I  am  so  strong  I  need  nothing.  I  have 
my  great  fists,'  and  he  smiled.  He  looked  very 
sweet  and  kind;  his  temper  had  evidently  van- 
ished. 

"'Why  do  you  dislike  showing  your  knife?' 
Matyas  persisted. 

'I  do  not  dislike,'   said   Laszlo  composedly, 
but  still  he  did  not  show  it. 

:'It  is  as  long  as  my  arm,  Mademoiselle,'  de 
Folatre  said  sneeringly;   'it  is  a  carving  knife.' 

"At  this  juncture  Winifred  entered,  and  had  to 
see  the  cane  and  hear  about  the  knife  and  how 
Laszlo  refused  to  exhibit  it. 

"  '  I  think  Nelly  really  wishes  to  see  your  play- 
thing, Monsieur  Laszlo,'  she  said  insistently.  'As 
a  favor  to  my  little  cousin  I  beg  you  to  draw 
your  dagger!' 

"His  face  became  as  expressionless  as  a  hand- 
some mask  as  he  obeyed,  and  placed  the  most  ab- 
surd little  toy  penknife  in  my  hand.  It  was  a 
ridiculous  knife,  as  de  Folatre  had  said  (for  a  man 
to  carry),  but  I  did  not  make  any  remark  save  to 
thank  Laszlo,  as  I  had  no  wish  to  give  Matyas 
pleasure.  As  Ulaszlo  held  his  hand  out  to  take 
it  back  I  glanced  at  his  palm,  and  as  his  hand 
closed  slowly  over  the  knife — his  motions  are  gen- 
erally slow  when  they  are  not  so  quick  that  they 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


take  your  breath  away — I  saw  that  he  had  no 
marriage  line.  This  I  said  to  him  as  we  walked 
toward  the  tennis  court,  and  he  was  not  pleased. 
'It  is  all  foolish  superstition,'  he  said,  'and  I 
do  not  believe  in  it.  And  if  I  have  no  marriage 
line,  it  soon,  I  hope,  will  be  given  the  chance  to 
grow,  dear  Mademoiselle.  Ah,  but  you  treat  me 
unkindly!  I  love  you  dearly,  so  very  dearly. 
And  you  know  it,  Mademoiselle  Nellee,  and  you 
know  my  hopes,  also.  You  believe  in  my  affec- 
tion, nest-ce  pas?' 

"I   pretended  to  hold   a  daisy.     'A  little?'    I 
questioned,  pulling  off  an  imaginary  leaf.   'Much  ? 

Passionately  ? ' 

'  'A  la  folie!'  he  interrupted  almost  fiercely. 

"And,  Alicia,  I  fear,  I  fear 

"But  if  he  does,  if  he  should,  if 


"I  am  sorry  I  came,  although  it  has  enabled 
me  to  find  myself,  to  readjust  myself.  Yes,  you 
did  right,  with  your  views,  to  advise  me  to  come, 
Alicia.  To  you  7  stood  paramount.  To  you  my 
destiny  was,  and  is,  the  all-important  one.  This 
visit  has  taught  me  much,  enabled  me  to  forget 
much.  7  am  benefited  by  it,  but  are  others  hurt  ? 
I  am  coming  home  to  teach  music,  with  all  my 
heart,  with  all  my  strength.  Work,  that  is  what  I 
need,  what  I  long  for. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Poor  Winifred!     Will   it  help   her   if  others 
suffer  ? 

"His  vanity  is  engaged — if  not  his  heart.     And 
vanity,  when  wounded,  suffers  cruelly 
"Your  loving 

"NELLY." 


[166] 


XVII 

'   .  .  .  God's  own  profound 
Was  above  me,  and  round  me  the  mountains, 
And  under,  the  sea," 

ELINOR  was  unfortunate  in  not  being  allowed 
to  see  more  of  the  other  people  in  the  hotel. 
They  were,  many  of  them,  entertaining  people, 
their  differing  nationalities  rendering  them  par- 
ticularly so  to  the  girl.  She  would  have  enjoyed 
mingling  with  them  and  learning  their  various 
thoughts  and  ways.  The  close  study  of  Tran- 
sylvanians,  who  were  not  really  Magyars,  but 
merely  a  nondescript  French  graft,  would  have 
begun  to  weary  her  even  had  she  not  been  pecul- 
iarly situated  toward  these  particular  foreigners. 
As  it  was,  she  was  heartsick  and  homesick.  And 
without  any  wholesome  work,  or  variety  of  inter- 
course, to  divert  her  mind  from  dwelling  upon  the 
selfishness  of  those  with  whom  she  was  brought 
into  close  contact,  she  was  in  danger  of  becoming 
morbid  and  bitter. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning  on  the  first  of 
February.  Elinor  stood  by  her  eastern  window 
eagerly  scanning  the  weather  signs.  Miss  Cryden 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


had  said  that  if  the  day  promised  to  be  fine  she 
would  drive  over  the  Corniche  to  Menton,  and 
return  by  the  lower  road,  stopping  at  Monte  Carlo 
on  the  way  home.  The  party  would  consist  of 
Miss  Cryden,  Elinor,  and  the  two  cousins,  Ulaszlo 
and  Matyas. 

The  excursion  was  to  be  given  ostensibly  in 
honor  of  de  Folatre.  In  reality  Miss  Cryden  had 
arranged  it  in  order  to  discover  how  matters  stood 
with  Ulaszlo  in  regard  to  Elinor.  She  hoped  that 
the  time  had  come  for  her  to  inflict  the  blow  she 
had  so  foolishly  planned,  yet  feared  to  find  that 
the  young  man  really  cared  for  her  cousin.  Her 
mind  was  in  a  turmoil  between  these  conflicting 
hopes  and  fears,  and  her  temper  was  much  the 
worse  because  of  her  suffering.  For  she  did 
suffer,  and  suffer  so  keenly  that  Berthe,  who  had 
discovered  her  mistress's  foolish  secret,  found  her 
more  pitiable  than  laughable. 

Hubert  meeting  the  pretty  maid  on  her  way  to 
Miss  Cryden's  room  exclaimed  over  her  being  so 
mat  male. 

"But  Mademoiselle  Berthe  is  like  the  morning," 
he  said  smiling  and  rolling  his  eyes  admiringly  as 
he  gazed  upon  saucy  Berthe,  "clouds  as  well  as 
sunshine!  You  look  uncertain.  Is  it  that  you 
fear  Mademoiselle  Cryden?" 
[168] 


Berthe  shut  her  mouth  tight,  put  her  finger 
upon  her  lips,  and  nodded  violently.  Hubert's 
eyebrows  ran  up  to  where  his  hair  once  had  been, 
while  he  drew  his  lips  down  and  flung  out  his  arms 
with  every  appearance  of  sympathy. 

"It  is  this,"  whispered  Berthe  approaching 
close:  "Does  she  wish  to  go  for  the  drive  to 
Menton  this  morning — or  not  ?  It  depends  upon 
the  weather.  And  I,  who  am  to  arouse  and  pre- 
pare her,  do  I  understand,  then,  the  weather? 
But  not  at  all!  If  I  mistake,  and  wake  her  when 
rain  is  coming,  I  shall  lose " 

"Your  place?"  interrupted  Hubert,  absently 
striving  to  encircle  her  trig  waist  with  his  shirt- 
sleeved  arm. 

"No,  but  my  head,"  Berthe  replied,  dexterously 
avoiding  his  arm  and  shaking  the  saucy  head  at 
him  gayly. 

"It  is  a  pretty  head,"  said  the  admiring  porter; 
"far  too  pretty  a  head  to  be  taken  off  by  that  sour 
old  maid,  although  it  may  be" — this  in  revenge 
for  the  avoided  embrace — "it  may  be  an  empty, 
foolish  one!" 

"Too  many  wise  thoughts  remove  the  hair  per- 
haps?" was  the  careless  retort,  accompanied  by 
a  sly  side  glance  at  Hubert's  bare  poll.  "I  will 
remain  foolish  if  Monsieur  permits.  But  what  of 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


the  weather,  Hubert.  There  is  none  like  thee,  I 
am  told,  at  reading  the  signs." 

She  smiled  at  him  coaxingly. 

"I  have  not  time  to  run  downstairs,"  Hubert 
said  good-naturedly,  "and  here  there  is  no  win- 
dow from  which  to  look  eastward.  If  I  could  but 
peep  from  the  window  of  Mademoiselle  Ladoon! 
What  dost  thou  think,  Berthe,  man  enfant,  would 
Mademoiselle  permit  ?  I  would  gladly  save  thee 
a  scolding,  wicked  as  thou  art."  He  passed  his 
hand  over  his  bald  head. 

"If  she  would  permit!"  exclaimed  Berthe,  lift- 
ing her  eyes  to  the  ceiling.  "But  you  know  her 
not!  She  is  an  angel,  Mademoiselle  Ladoon, 
ever  gracious,  smiling,  charming — yet  here" — she 
laid  her  hand  upon  her  heart — "ah,  I  feel  sure, 
here,  always  sad!" 

Hubert  shook  his  head  doubtingly. 

"I  do  not  know,"  he  said  gravely.  "She  is 
not  as  our  jeunes  demoiselles.  First  I  thought  it 
was  the  Englishman  who  had  her  favor " 

"Stop!"  said  Berthe  in  a  fierce  whisper,  frown- 
ing angrily.  "It  is  not  possible  that  you  suppose 
my  Mademoiselle  is  that  kind  of  demoiselle!  Ah, 
you  must  not,  you  shall  not!  She  is  of  a  goodness, 
of  a  purity — an  angel,  I  tell  thee,  Hubert,  yes 
truly.  Not  an  evil  thought  in  her  heart." 

[  170] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"But  Monsieur  de  Folatre,  then  ?"  Hubert  per- 
sisted, still  unconvinced.  "He  pursues  her,  and 
she  permits  him.  Monsieur  de  Folatre  is  not 
the  kind  of  monsieur  to  waste  his  time — and  it  is 
not  marriage  that  he  desires,  Berthe." 

Berthe  smiled  radiantly.  "I  look  forward  with 
pleasure,  yes,  with  delight,  to  his  fast  approaching 
misery!  He  loves  her,  yes,  and  with  passion  even, 
but  Mademoiselle  is  a  jeune  demoiselle  Americaine, 
and  she  understands  him  not.  Listen,  Hubert;" 
she  laid  a  confidential  finger  upon  the  porter's 
arm;  "I,  yes,  I  myself,  heard  her  complain  to 
Mademoiselle  Creedan  of  Monsieur  de  Folatre. 
*  He  is  always  placing  his  foot  upon  mine,  Weenee- 
freet,'  says  my  very  dear  Mademoiselle  Ladoon 
with  her  large  eyes — eyes  so  blue,  Hubert — filled 
with  innocence.  'Never  can  he  keep  his  feet  from 
touching  mine  when  we  are  at  the  card-table. 
Now  I  place  mine  under  my  chair  the  moment  I 
sit  down  to  play.  They  went  to  sleep  to-night,  I 
kept  them  quiet  so  long.  I  think  his  mother  should 
have  taught  him  to  keep  still.'  Mademoiselle 
Creedan  she  smiled  with  amusement;  she  under- 
stood, did  Mademoiselle  Creedan.  And  I  think 
she  regretted  that  she  had  insisted  upon  Madem- 
oiselle Ladoon  speaking  French  always.  I  think, 
Hubert,  that  she  wished  7  had  not  understood." 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Didst  thou  say  aught?"    Hubert  demanded. 

"But  no,  foolish  Hubert!  It  is  for  me  to  be 
deaf  often — and  for  thee  not  to  be  blind.  Say 
that  you  have  faith  in  my  dear  Mademoiselle  La- 
doon,  say  it  quickly,  Hubert." 

Hubert  only  nodded,  but  his  face  showed  so 
plainly  that  he  was  convinced  of  his  error  that 
little  Berthe  was  satisfied.  At  this  moment  Eli- 
nor's door  opened  softly  and  she  looked  out. 
When  she  saw  Berthe  and  her  companion  she 
smiled,  in  her  charming,  friendly  way,  in  greeting, 
and  came  to  where  they  were  standing.  Berthe 
rushed  into  speech. 

"It  is  of  the  weather  that  Mademoiselle  is 
thinking  ?  If  Mademoiselle  would  then  but  per- 
mit Hubert  to  look  from  her  window?" 

"I  was  just  about  to  beg  him  to  do  so,"  said 
Elinor.  "It  would  be  a  pity  to  wake  Mademoi- 
selle Cryden  for  nothing." 

The  three  tiptoed  into  the  room.  It  was  a 
solemn  moment.  Berthe,  who  was  excitable, 
held  her  breath  as  Hubert  opened  the  window 
and  silently  inspected  the  clouds  drifting  across 
the  pale  blue  sky.  The  mountain  tops  were 
mist  hung,  the  vapor  rolling  now  up  now  down, 
as  though  a  saucy  giant  child  were  playing  at 
lifting  and  dropping  a  gigantic  curtain. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Hubert  noiselessly  closed  the  window  and  gave 
his  verdict. 

"  If  the  wind  were  from  the  other  quarter  there 
would  be  rain  before  night.  As  it  is,  Madem- 
oiselle Cryden  may  be  aroused  with  safety;  by 
eleven  o'clock  the  sky  will  be  perfectly  clear." 

He  spread  out  his  hands  and  bowed  low. 

It  was  as  though  he,  as  clerk  of  the  weather, 
took  pleasure  in  thus  arranging  a  fine  day  for 
the  charming  Mademoiselle  Ladoon. 

"There  will  be  four?"  he  asked  Elinor,  as  he 
slowly  backed  from  the  room  from  which  Berthe 
had  already  flitted.  "  Un  parti  carre,  nest-ce  pas, 
Mademoiselle  ?" 

Elinor  smiled.  "Yes,  Hubert,"  she  said,  "Mad- 
emoiselle Cryden  and  the  Messieurs  de  Noiraud 
and  de  Folatre;  I  too,  of  course." 

"Madame  de  Folatre  will  soon  join  monsieur, 
nest-ce  pas,  Mademoiselle  ?" 

Hubert's  little  round  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Eli- 
nor as  he  made  this  innocent  inquiry,  but  they 
were  as  expressionless  as  two  shining  buttons. 

"Is  she  coming?  I  had  not  heard  so,"  Elinor 
said,  much  interested.  "When,  Hubert?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  Mademoiselle,"  was  the  vague 
response.  "I  thought  perhaps  Mademoiselle  might 
inform  me.  Madame  de  Folatre  is,  so  I  under- 

[173] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


stand,  an  English  lady.  Beautiful  " — he  spoke 
slowly — "gentle,  and  very  rich." 

"I  hope  that  she  may  come  soon,"  Elinor  said 
with  grave  earnestness,  "it  would  give  me  great 
pleasure  to  meet  her.  I  wish  that  she  were  here 
to-day  for  this  drive.  Mademoiselle  Cryden  has 
arranged  the  party  in  honor  of  Monsieur  de  Fol- 
atre." 

She  stood  pondering,  wondering  if  it  were  too 
late  to  put  off  the  excursion.  Hubert  watched 
her  keenly  and  decided  that  Berthe  might  be  right. 
At  all  events,  de  Folatre  was  not  in  the  running  at 
present;  Mademoiselle  Ladoon  evidently  cared 
not  a  snap  of  her  white  finger  for  him.  Hubert 
felt  relieved,  and  wondered  why.  What  was  it 
to  him,  then,  he  asked  himself,  if  Mademoiselle 
was  or  was  not  sans  reproche  ?  There  was,  as 
Berthe  had  said,  something  very  true  and  beauti- 
ful in  the  expression  of  Mademoiselle  Ladoon's 
large  blue  eyes.  He  found  himself  suddenly  hop- 
ing that  she  might  not  marry  de  Noiraud,  and 
the  next  moment  he  surprised  himself  by  ventur- 
ing to  hint  this  to  the  American  lady. 

"Madame  de  Folatre  would  have  done  better 
to  have  married  in  her  own  country,"  he  said, 
looking  down,  and  beginning  to  polish  the  door 
knob  with  his  green  baize  apron. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"You  do  not  admire  Monsieur  de  Folatre, 
Hubert?"  Elinor  inquired. 

"He  is  nothing  to  me,"  was  the  careless  reply. 
"I  know  not  what  he  is.  It  is  the  principle,  Mad- 
emoiselle. A  lady,  look  you,  is  accustomed  to  the 
ways  of  the  messieurs  of  her  own  country;  if  she 
marries  one  of  another  land  there  are  new  cus- 
toms, and  manners,  and — and  morals,  Mademoi- 
selle (if  what  I  hear  is  true),  to  be  learned.  And 
as  one  lives  on  from  year  to  year  one  loves  more 
and  more  the  customs  and  ways  of  one's  own 
land.  The  English  had  best  marry  English,  the 
Americans,  Americans,  and — and — "  he  broke 
off,  looking  into  the  hall.  "I  am  wanted,  if  Mad- 
emoiselle will  excuse  ?" 

He  bowed  low  and  made  his  exit,  noiselessly 
closing  the  door  behind  him.  Elinor  smiled,  and 
finished  his  speech  for  him. 

"And  the  Transylvanians,  Transylvanians,"  she 
said  to  herself,  and  she  felt  grateful  to  the  porter 
for  his  kindly  interest. 

"The  carriage  is  ordered  for  half-past  nine 
o'clock,"  said  Berthe,  knocking,  opening  the  door, 
and  delivering  her  message  in  one  excited  breath. 
"If  Mademoiselle  will  be  ready,  yes?"  and  she 
was  gone. 

Miss  Cryden  was  fortunate.     The  landau  that 

[175] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


she  had  hired  was  a  new  one,  drawn  by  a  pair  of 
swift,  powerful  horses.  The  two  men,  de  Noiraud 
and  de  Folatre,  surveyed  the  turnout  with  satis- 
faction, but  not  one  another.  Each  wished  that 
the  other  might  have  remained  at  home,  and  each 
struggled,  quietly  and  decorously,  to  assume  the 
position  of  the  most  intimate  friend  in  assisting 
in  the  preparations  for  departure. 

Elinor  was  looking  particularly  well.  Excite- 
ment had  brought  a  bright  color  into  the  cool, 
healthy  pallor  of  her  cheeks,  and  a  smile  of  pleas- 
ure played  about  her  mouth  and  lighted  up  her 
eyes.  Upon  Miss  Cryden  the  excitement  had  a 
different  effect.  She  had  not  slept  well;  she  felt 
nervous  and  irritable,  and  she  knew  that  she 
showed  her  age  in  the  early  morning.  Dressed  in 
bronze  velvet  trimmed  with  sable,  her  face  but 
imperfectly  seen  through  a  veil  of  lace  and  one  of 
chiffon,  she  strove  to  comfort  herself  with  the 
thought  that  at  least  she  looked  very  elegant  and 
stately,  ensconced  in  her  corner  of  the  roomy  car- 
riage. Her  thoughts  were  very  painful;  for  al- 
though both  men  paid  her  compliments  upon  the 
beauty  of  her  toilet,  and  showed  her  the  attention 
that  was  her  due  as  hostess,  neither  one  of  them 
could  keep  his  eyes  from  straying  toward  Elinor, 
and  this  Miss  Cryden  saw  but  too  plainly  for  her 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


happiness.  She  felt  that  she  hated  everybody: 
de  Folatre  because  he  was  Ulaszlo's  cousin;  Ulas- 
zlo  because  he  had  bewitched  and  then  scorned 
her;  Elinor  because  she  had  succeeded  but  too 
well  in  the  task  assigned  her.  And  she  hated 
herself  because  of  her  unhappiness. 

"Why  do  I  care  so  much  for  him  ?"  she  asked 
herself  over  and  over  again  as  she  studied  the 
handsome  face  opposite  her.  Such  a  strangely 
cold  face — " une  froideur  lummeuse."  But  his 
eyes  were  not  cold  when  he  looked  at  Elinor.  Ah, 
no,  there  was  in  them  a  tenderness  that  she  had 
never  before  seen!  Her  heart  contracted  with  a 
spasm  of  pain.  A  sudden  terror  seized  her  lest, 
despite  her  veils,  her  misery  might  be  revealed  to 
her  companions.  But  no,  they  were  comment- 
ing cheerfully  upon  the  splendor  of  the  morning — 
for  the  clouds  were  already  rolling  away — and 
pointing  out  with  equal  cheerfulness  the  tablets 
in  the  rock  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  where  the  road 
leads  up  to  the  observatory,  commemorating  the 
sad  death  of  the  two  who  had  been  killed  at  that 
spot  in  an  auto  race. 

"Nobody  thinks  of  me,  nobody  cares  for  me,'* 
Miss  Cryden  said  to  herself  bitterly,  "I  wish  I 
were  dead!" 

But   this   she   did    not   really   wish.     And   she 

[177] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


joined  in  the  conversation,  and  said  how  sad  was 
the  fate  of  the  two  who  had  died  in  the  accident, 
and  how  much  she  preferred  carriages  to  autos; 
and,  further  up  the  hillside,  when  a  child  ran  out 
with  flowers,  and  de  Noiraud  presented  her  with 
one  of  the  bouquets,  she  accepted  the  gift  with  her 
accustomed  airs  and  graces,  and  no  one  suspected 
her  secret  wretchedness. 

The  landau  was  open,  the  top  thrown  back, 
and  the  keen  mountain  air  thrilled  past,  inspiriting 
Elinor  more  and  more.  The  views  were  glorious; 
first  inland  views,  where  the  mountains  loomed  up 
peak  after  peak  into  far  distances;  and,  after,  wide 
stretches  of  the  blue  Mediterranean,  seen  from 
the  steep  hillsides  along  which  the  wonderful  road 
winds  in  broad,  easy  curves  upward,  upward, 
until,  near  Turbie,  it  swings  as  easily  downward, 
reminding  one  ever  of  its  remarkable  builder, 
Napoleon. 

To  Elinor  all  was  the  keenest  pleasure.  The 
loneliness  of  the  great  road  charmed  her;  and 
when  this  loneliness  was  occasionally  broken, 
now  by  peasants  driving  their  donkeys;  again  by 
groups  of  soldiers;  or  rosy  little  children  running 
out  from  the  scattered  homesteads  to  meet  the 
carriage,  their  hands  filled  with  flowers  for  the 
travellers;  and  the  brake  drawn  by  three  horses 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


with  a  party  of  Cook's  tourists;  whatever  there 
was  of  life  or  solitude  upon  this  wondrous  high- 
way proved  an  enjoyment.  The  girl's  heart 
swelled  with  delight  over  the  exquisite  beauty  of 
earth  and  sea  and  sky.  She  looked  down  with 
awe  upon  the  deserted  village  of  Eze,  perched 
upon  its  isolated  rock,  and  viewed  with  interest 
the  French  men-of-war  so  far  below  that  they 
looked  no  bigger  than  row-boats. 

Her  unaffected  pleasure  was  an  enjoyment  to 
the  two  men.  They  watched  her  with  open  ad- 
miration, delighted  with  her  girlish  enthusiasm. 
It  was  with  difficulty  that  they  remembered  her 
chaperon,  poor  Miss  Cryden,  who  felt  as  each 
half-hour  passed  that  she  might  pay  too  dearly 
for  her  vengeance. 

Menton  was  bathed  in  the  brilliant  sunshine  of 
midday  when  they  drove  along  the  road  that  edges 
the  sea.  Great,  pale-green  waves  were  rolling 
shoreward,  now  and  again  mounting  so  high  that 
their  foaming  surges,  as  they  broke  upon  the  peb- 
bly beach,  dashed  over  the  asphalt  pavement  of 
the  promenade.  Few  people  were  abroad.  It  was 
the  hour  of  luncheon  and  the  place. looked  de- 
serted. As  none  of  Miss  Cryden's  party  knew 
Menton,  the  coachman  chose  the  hotel  where  they 
might  lunch.  It  was  close  upon  the  promenade, 

[179] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


commanding  an  exquisite  view  of  the  sea — at 
which  no  one  looked  save  Elinor.  The  others 
were  too  much  interested  in  their  own  affairs  to 
think  of  scenery. 

Miss  Cryden  demanded  to  be  shown  at  once  to 
a  room  where  she  hoped  to  repair  the  ravages 
made  by  the  keen  air  and  glowing  sunshine  upon 
her  complexion.  But  when  she  had,  with  Elinor's 
help,  removed  the  two  veils,  she  was  in  despair. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  sur- 
veyed her  once  pretty  face.  "My  nose  is  fright- 
fully red  and  my  cheeks  look  yellow — yes,  the 
color  of  gamboge!" 

She  sought  eagerly  in  her  hand-bag  for  powder 
and  puff,  but  the  box  was  not  there.  Berthe  had 
forgotten  to  put  it  in. 

"I  sha'n't  go  down.  I'll  eat  my  luncheon  here. 
Oh,  if  only  I  could  eat  through  a  veil!"  the  poor 
lady  wailed.  "And  you" — she  turned  fiercely 
upon  Elinor — "you  look  handsomer  than  ever! 
Oh,  what  shall  I  do?" 

Elinor  suggested  borrowing  powder  from  one 
of  the  ladies  in  the  hotel. 

"And    use   a   nasty,   perhaps    infected,   puff  ? 

Never!"     was    the    indignant    refusal.     "As    for 

scrubbing  it  on  with  a  handkerchief — but  you  are 

perfectly  unsympathetic,  Elinor  Ladoon,  perfectly! 

[180] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


You  only  think  of  your  own  pleasure!     Here  you 
have   been   flirting  madly  with   both   those  fools 

all  the  way " 

•    "Shall  I  stop?"    Elinor  demanded,  interrupt- 
ing her.     "  I  should  be  only  too  glad  to,  Winifred." 

"There  you  go,"  whimpered  Miss  Cryden.  "I 
never  can  say  half  a  word  but  you  catch  me  up. 
If  you  are  quite  through  prinking,  quite  through, 
Elinor" — this  very  severely — "I  wouldn't  hurry 
you,  of  course,  still  it  does  seem  odd  that  any  one 
who  pretends  to  care  so  little  for  her  personal  ap- 
pearance should  prink  forever — if  you  are,  as  I 
just  said,  quite  ready,  we  will  join  our  friends," 
and  she  swept  from  the  room. 

In  the  mean  time  the  other  two  cousins  had  been 
conversing,  and  not  conversing  affectionately. 
Ulaszlo  had  asked,  very  mildly,  if  Matyas  thought 
it  quite  fair  to  interfere  in  his  affairs. 

"When  you  were  about  to  become  engaged  to 
Sophie,  Matyas,"  he  said  gently,  "we  all  wished 
to  help  you.  I  remember  that  I  did  all  I  could." 

"Indeed?"  was  the  sarcastic  rejoinder.  "I 
am  charmed  to  be  reminded  of  your  great  kind- 
ness. Perhaps  you  are  remembering  the  day  I 
came  upon  you  suddenly  in  the  garden  when  you 
were  offering  Sophie  a  flower  ?  Yes,  it  is  that 
moment  that  you  are  recalling.  You  kissed  the 
[.81] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


flower,  which  Sophie  had  the  good  sense  to  de- 
cline. Ah,  yes,  I  remember  your  devotion;  but 
it  was  to  Sophie,  not  to  my  interest!" 

"You  lie!"   said  Ulaszlo. 

He  smiled  faintly  as  he  spoke,  that  the  by- 
standers, the  gold-buttoned  employees  of  the  hotel, 
might  not  suspect  his  feelings.  He  had  grown  very 
pale.  Matyas  laughed  with  affected  good-humor 
and  laid  his  hand  gently  upon  his  cousin's  shoulder. 

"Do  not  let  us  quarrel,  Laszlo,  mon  cher"  he 
said  pleasantly,  "only  fools  do  that.  What  harm 
does  it  do  if  I  flirt  a  little  with  your  charming 
fiancee  that  is  to  be  ?  She  thinks  nothing  of  it. 
I  am  to  her  but  one  among  many.  7  am  not  the 
one  to  be  feared,  my  cousin."  He  smiled  signifi- 
cantly. 

"Who  then?"    demanded  Ulaszlo  eagerly. 

"The  Englishman,"  was  the  low-voiced  answer. 

"Absurd!"  said  de  Noiraud.  "But  you  will 
not  understand." 

"They  walked  in  the  garden  late  last  evening," 
said  de  Folatre  coldly. 

"You  are  mistaken,"  came  the  quick  reply. 

"Ask,  then." 

Ulaszlo  shook  his  head. 

"You  will  not — you  dare  not?    Then  7  will." 

"Hush!    here  are  the  ladies,"  said  Laszlo. 

[182] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Did  I  see  you  in  the  garden  last  evening, 
Mademoiselle  Ladoon?"  de  Folatre  inquired,  as 
the  four  took  their  seats  at  the  lunch-table.  "I 
thought  I  saw  you,  but  I  may  have  been  mistaken. 
It  was  very  late.  I  dare  say  I  was  mistaken — in- 
deed, I  am  sure  I  was." 

"No,  you  were  not,"  said  Miss  Cryden  tartly. 
"Elinor  was  in  the  garden.  Why  do  you  imagine 
that  you  were  mistaken,  Monsieur  de  Folatre  ? 
Surely  the  garden  is  free  to  all.  Elinor  has  as  good 
a  right  to  walk  there  as  anybody,  I  hope,  especially 
as  I  sent  her  to  pick  up  something  I  had  dropped 
over  my  balcony." 

Miss  Cryden  spoke  with  exceeding  acrimony. 
She  felt  extremely  cross,  so  cross  that  although 
she  wished  to  appear  amiable  and  desirable  in 
the  eyes  of  both  men,  the  joy  of  venting  her  irri- 
tation upon  somebody  outweighed  all  consider- 
ations of  vanity.  And  this  giving  rein  to  ill  tem- 
per proved  so  keen  a  pleasure  that  she  prolonged 
the  sensation.  What  did  this  impudent  foreigner 
mean,  she  asked  herself  angrily,  poking  and  pry- 
ing into  her  affairs  ?  If  she  had,  in  a  moment  of 
carelessness,  running  out  upon  the  balcony  to  see 
who  it  was  walking  below  so  late  upon  the  ter- 
race— if  she  had  carelessly  let  fall  the  false  puffs 
that  she  had  been  looking  at  when  she  heard  the 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


steps,  was  it  any  of  this   de   Folatre's   business, 
pray  ? 

"I  dropped  my  lace  scarf,  yes,  my  scarf  of 
Spanish  lace,  last  night,  Monsieur  de  Folatre," 
she  continued  severely,  "and  my  cousin  was  kind 
enough  to  go  downstairs  and  pick  it  up  for  me. 
If  you  have  any  more  questions  to  ask  I  shall 
be  charmed  to  answer  them."  She  smiled  sourly 
upon  the  astonished  de  Folatre,  astonished  but  not 
alarmed. 

"Was  she  alone — since  I  may  ask  questions?" 
he  inquired  coolly. 

His  audacity  restored  Miss  Cryden's  good-hu- 
mor. Anything  so  amazing  was  amusing.  She 
laughed  outright. 

"You  are  surely  the  most  impertinent  man 
alive,  Monsieur  de  Folatre,"  she  said,  "so  imperti- 
nent that  you  win  forgiveness.  Yes,  Nelly  was 
alone.  Any  more  questions?" 

"I  thought  Mr.  Delamere  was  with  her,  Miss 
Cryden,"  he  said  slowly.  "I  could  have  sworn 
that  I  saw  a  tall  dark  figure  following  her  along 
the  terrace,  pausing  before  she  came  below  your 
balcony." 

"Then  there  was  some  one!"  cried  Elinor.  "I 
was  sure  there  was  some  one  behind  me.  Oh, 
Winifred,  who  could  it  have  been?" 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Delamere,"  said  de  Folatre  sardonically. 
"Why  do  you  ask?" 

"No  such  thing,"  said  Miss  Cryden. 

"I  wish  it  had  been,"  said  Elinor. 

They  spoke  simultaneously. 

"You  wish  it  had  been?"  questioned  de  Fola- 
tre scrutinizing  the  girl  closely. 

"Yes,"  she  said  simply,  "for  then  I  should  not 
have  been  afraid.  As  it  was,  to  hear  no  footsteps 
and,  looking  back,  suddenly  to  see  a  dark  shadow 
looming  up  close  behind  me — ah,"  she  shivered, 
"I  was  frightened!  When  I  strove  to  see  who  it 
was  it  had  slipped  away.  I  spoke  Mr.  Delamere's 
name" — de  Folatre  glanced  swiftly  at  Ulaszlo 
— "and  yours,  and  Monsieur  de  Noiraud's" — 
Ulaszlo  returned  the  glance  with  one  of  triumph 
— "but  there  was  no  answer,  and  I  hurried  back 
into  the  hotel  as  fast  as  I  could." 

"It  may  have  been  the  monk,"  Ulaszlo  sug- 
gested.    "I  fear  him  much  myself." 

Everybody  laughed,  and  Mr.  Delamere  was  ap- 
parently forgotten. 


XVIII 

"Some  sprite,  malignant  and  elfish, 
Seems  present,  whispering  close, 
'All  motives  of  life  are  selfish, 
All  instincts  of  life  are  gross;' ' 

IT  was  about  three  o'clock  when  the  party 
dashed  into  brilliant,  sparkling  Monte  Carlo, 
gay  with  flowers,  with  the  flutter  of  doves'  wings, 
and  with  the  ever-changing  crowd  of  pleasure 
seekers.  As  Miss  Cryden's  carriage  rolled  past 
the  long  line  of  autos  and  coaches  awaiting  those 
who  were  paying  court  to  fickle  Fortune  inside 
the  gambling  rooms,  de  Folatre  called  attention  to 
a  man  who  had  just  started  to  cross  the  street. 
A  tall,  broad-shouldered  man,  in  a  shabby  over- 
coat, who  walked  as  though  dazed,  unconscious 
of  those  about  him.  Upon  each  cheek  was  a  deep 
red  spot  as  if  he  were  burning  with  fever,  and 
his  eyes  shone  with  unnatural  brilliancy. 

"One  of  the  victims,  I  imagine,"  said  de  Folatre 
coolly.     "He's  evidently  got  his  quietus.     I  dare 
say  he'll  put  an  end  to  himself  before  daybreak  to- 
morrow.    But  we'll  never  hear  anything  about  it. 
[186] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


They  know  how  to  hush  up  such  little  matters 
here." 

Elinor  cried  out  in  horror. 

"Oh,  the  pity  of  it — the  pity  of  it  all!" 

"Like  poor  James,"  whispered  Miss  Cryden 
with  indiscreet  sympathy,  leaning  close  to  the  girl. 
"Dropped  over  a  hundred  thousand  in  one  night, 
I'm  told." 

Then,  in  open  comment,  she  expressed  her  dis- 
approval of  gambling,  adding  that  since  they 
were  there  they  had  better  go  in  and  take  a 
peep  at  the  tables. 

"I  never  put  down  more  than  ten  francs,"  she 
said  virtuously,  "and  you  mustn't  play  at  all, 
Nelly.  For  an  old  lady  like  me" — she  simpered 
archly,  ogling  the  two  men,  "a  little  wickedness 
more  or  less  does  not  matter." 

She  descended  lightly  from  the  carriage,  show- 
ing a  goodly  stretch  of  well-turned  leg  and  ankle 
incased  in  brown  silk  stockings  clocked  with  gold, 
and  a  pair  of  shapely  little  feet  shod  with  high- 
heeled,  bronze  slippers.  Appropriating  the  un- 
willing de  Noiraud  as  escort  she  went  briskly  up 
the  steps  into  the  rooms,  leaving  Elinor  to  follow 
with  de  Folatre. 

Had  it  not  been  for  Miss  Cryden's  allusion  to 
Mr.  Ladoon's  love  of  play  with  its  unfortunate 

[187] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


consequences,  and  the  sight  of  the  man  whom  de 
Folatre  had  pointed  out  as  one  of  the  victims  to 
that  passion,  Elinor  might  have  visited  the  gam- 
bling rooms  in  as  carelessly  thoughtless  a  spirit  of 
mere  sight-seeing  as  do  most  girls;  for  youth  is 
thoughtless  and,  fortunately,  forgetful.  But  the 
two  sharp  reminders  of  the  fate  that  overtakes 
some  among  its  votaries  sent  her  in  a  subdued  and 
saddened  spirit  into  this  great  temple  of  so-called 
pleasure. 

The  rooms  were  full.  There  were  many  on- 
lookers like  themselves,  but  the  greater  number  of 
these  were  trying  their  fortunes  with  small  stakes 
at  the  lesser  tables,  showing  the  same  light  hearted 
amusement  whether  they  lost  or  won.  De  Fola- 
tre, anxious  to  be  a  satisfactory  guide,  soon  led 
Elinor  to  the  table  around  which  were  grouped 
the  most  interesting  habitues  of  the  place,  those 
who  were  playing  as  if  for  life  or  death,  where 
fortunes  were  sometimes  made  but  oftener  lost. 

Crowded  about  this  table  were  people  unlike 
in  every  way  save  one,  each  face  was  stamped 
with  the  same  expression,  greed.  The  croupiers, 
whose  eyes  only  seemed  alive,  raked  in  the  gold 
and  bank-notes  like  automatons.  What  was  it  to 
them  who  won — or  lost  ?  Elinor  felt  that  she 
would  be  forever  haunted  by  the  memory  of  one 
[188] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


among  these  gamblers.  This  was  an  old,  old  lady, 
precisely  dressed  in  old-time,  old-lady  garb,  a  rich 
black  silk  gown,  and  a  plain  black  bonnet  tied  with 
black  ribbon  beneath  the  chin.  She  was  attended 
by  a  companion  who  stood  behind  her  chair,  an 
apparently  uninterested  spectator  of  her  em- 
ployer's gains  or  losses.  The  old  lady's  wrinkled 
face  was  very  thin  and  white,  dead-looking;  her 
sunken  eyes  were  colorless,  but  alight  with  fierce 
desire.  Greed  was  written  in  every  line  of  the 
corpse-like  face. 

Elinor  turned  away,  heartsick. 

"Come,"  she  said  to  Matyas,  hardly  knowing  to 
whom  she  was  speaking,  "come  quickly!  I  must 
get  out  under  God's  sky,  into  God's  sunshine!" 

Alarmed,  fearing  that  she  was  in  danger  of 
fainting  from  the  suffocating  atmosphere  of  the 
place,  he  hurried  her  out  into  the  fresh  air.  It  was 
a  few  moments  before  she  could  recover  herself 
sufficiently  to  reassure  her  anxious  companion. 
Accepting  his  interpretation  of  her  desire  to  leave 
the  rooms,  and  unwilling  that  he  should  discover 
her  real  feelings,  she  forced  herself  to  speak  ad- 
miringly of  the  beautiful  spot  ("The  Plague  Spot 
of  Europe,"  as  it  is  called)  and  pretended  to  feel 
happy  and  at  ease.  But  she  was  more  than  glad 
when  he  told  her  that  the  others  were  coming. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"They  are  not  alone,"  he  said;  "two  ladies  are 
with  them.  Do  you  know  them  ?  No  ?  The  big 
auto  approaching  is  theirs,  I  suppose.  Shall  we 
join  your  cousin  ?" 

"Elinor,"  said  Miss  Cryden,  hastily  drawing 
the  girl  aside  without  introducing  her  to  the  new- 
comers, "Laszlo  and  I  are  going  home  with  the 
Lines  in  their  car.  They  wouldn't  take  no,  I  had 
to  accept.  I  know  you  won't  mind  driving  back 
with  de  Folatre,  he's  nothing  but  an  old  married 
man,  for  all  his  airs  and  graces.  If  he  is  silly,  just 
don't  notice,  there's  a  dear  girl!  The  coachman 
is  elderly,  he  can  chaperon  you."  She  giggled  girl- 
ishly if  a  trifle  spitefully.  "Whatever  you  do, 
please  be  polite  and  nice  to  de  Folatre.  I'm  par- 
ticularly anxious  that  he  shouldn't  feel  snubbed 
by  my  breaking  up  the  party.  Do  you  under- 
stand, Nelly  ?  If  he's  too  flirtatious — I  know  he's 
an  impudent  fool — just  don't  catch  on.  You're 
clever  enough" — she  narrowed  her  eyes  and  shot 
an  unfriendly  glance  at  the  girl — "you're  clever 
enough  to  drive  a  team.  I've  seen  that  to-day. 
You  can  easily  manage — "  she  broke  off,  laughing 
uneasily.  "There,  I  was  only  joking,  Nelly  dear. 
You  don't  mirid  driving  back  alone  with  the  tire- 
some man,  do  you  ?" 

Elinor  did  mind,  but  she  accepted  the  situation 
[  190] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


politely  and  promised  to  treat  Matyas  with  due 
consideration  as  her  cousin's  guest.  Miss  Cryden 
went  with  her  to  the  carriage,  placing  her  in  de 
Folatre's  care. 

"We  shall  dash  past  you  in  a  moment,"  Miss 
Cryden  said  complacently,  "but  as  we  expect  to 
stop  for  tea  somewhere  en  route  we  sha'n't  reach 
home  much  before  you  do.  Take  good  care  of 
my  dear  Nelly,  Monsieur!  Bon  voyage!"  and  she 
waved  them  a  gay  farewell. 

Monsieur  de  Folatre,  who  had  civilly  concealed 
his  delight  over  the  arrangement  from  Miss  Cry- 
den, gave  it  full  rein  as  he  leaned  from  the  carriage 
and  called  out  to  his  cousin:  " Au  revoir,  Laszlo! 
Bon  voyage,  mon  cherf" 

The  ring  of  triumph  in  his  voice,  the  smile  of 
insolent  success  upon  his  lips  and  in  his  bold  dark 
eyes,  caused  his  less  fortunate  rival  to  pale  with 
anger  and  inwardly  to  curse  fate.  Fate,  at  that 
moment,  being  personated  by  Miss  Cryden.  Mat- 
yas sank  back  against  the  cushions  and  allowed 
himself  the  luxury  of  gazing  adoringly  at  Elinor, 
saying  to  himself  that  since  the  old  woman 
was  out  of  the  way,  and  Laszlo  disposed  of,  he 
might  let  himself  go,  and  indulge  his  feeling  tow- 
ard Mademoiselle  Ladoon  to  the  fullest  extent. 
He  was  seated  on  the  seaward  side  of  the  carriage 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


and  Elinor,  looking  past  him  at  the  yachts  anch- 
ored in  the  little  harbor  below,  failed,  apparent- 
ly, to  notice  the  lover-like  expression  in  her  com- 
panion's dark  face. 

As  the  carriage  rolled  down  the  hill  leading  to 
Monaco  cannon  boomed  from  the  fortress  above 
and  bands  clashed  out  gay  music.  It  was  a  fete 
day  in  the  little  city.  Flags  were  flying,  the  street 
through  which  they  passed  was  alive  with  throngs 
of  merrymakers.  Monsieur  de  Folatre  sighed 
with  pleasure. 

"I  am  so  happy  that  I  can  enjoy  seeing  others 
so,  without  the  customary  twinge  of  envy,"  he  said. 
"I  wish  that  this  drive  might  last  forever." 

Elinor  did  not  answer.  She  felt  oddly,  unlike 
herself.  It  seemed  to  her  that  life  was  all  ignoble, 
mean.  Every  one  appeared  actuated  solely  by 
selfish  motives,  to  be  greedy  for  selfish  pleasures, 
forgetful  of  all  save  the  fierce  desire  to  minister  to 
their  own  base  appetites.  The  few  good  people, 
the  people  like  Alicia  and  Mr.  Ferrars,  were  but 
the  exceptions  that  proved  the  general  rule.  The 
little  leaven  of  their  unselfish  goodness  might 
never  hope  to  leaven  that  lump  of  vicious  human- 
ity called  the  world.  The  old  lady  spending  the 
evening  of  her  life  at  the  gaming  table;  Winifred, 
who  was  wasting  her  energies  in  an  unworthy 

[  192] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


pursuit  of  vengeance;  the  fortune-hunting  young 
Transylvanian  against  whom  the  foolish  vengeance 
was  planned;  and  the  man  who  was  even  at  that 
moment  insulting  her  with  his  dishonorable  admi- 
ration, all,  all  were  alike,  all  tarred  with  the  same 
blackening  brush.  She  felt  that  she  hated  them 
all — and  she  despised  herself.  In  yielding  to  Win- 
ifred's wishes  had  she  not  become  as  black  as 
they  ?  But,  after  all,  what  did  it  matter  ?  was  she 
responsible,  pray,  for  the  ways  of  the  world  ? 

The  bold  promontory  upon  which  little  Monaco 
is  perched  had  been  left  behind  them,  they  were 
passing  handsome  villas  with  flower-draped  garden 
walls.  Monsieur  de  Folatre,  not  understanding 
the  expression  in  the  girl's  blue  eyes,  respected 
her  mood  for  silence,  fearing,  should  he  speak  out 
of  season,  to  mar  the  heaven-sent  opportunities  of 
the  long  tete-a-tete  drive. 

Elinor,  becoming  herself  conscious  of  her  silence, 
and  remembering  her  promise  to  Miss  Cryden  to 
be  civil,  felt  the  necessity  for  conversation  and  was 
indignant  because  of  it.  Her  usual  sweetness  of 
temper  failed  her.  She  was  conscious  of  a  new 
self,  a  bitter,  resentful  self.  She  had  not  asked 
to  be  born  into  the  world;  she  would  not  have 
come,  she  felt,  had  she  been  consulted.  And  now 
that  she  was  in  it — through  no  fault  of  her  own — 


AN   OLD   MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


she  was  expected  to  endure  cheerfully  its  storm 
and  stress;  to  be  grateful  for  her  cousin's  false 
hospitality;  to  behave  as  vilely,  as  shamefully  as 
the  crowd — as  Maynard,  in  short.  And  why  not  ? 
she  asked  herself  with  a  bitter  smile  of  self  scorn. 
Who  was  she,  forsooth,  to  set  herself  up  on  a  pin- 
nacle above  her  mates,  to  strive  for  high  ideals,  to 
hitch  her  buggy  to  a  star  ?  Let  her  henceforth 
live  like  her  neighbors.  But  she  must  never  for- 
get Alicia's  advice  (just  now,  curiously  enough, 
backed  by  Winifred's)  to  be  always  kind.  Oh, 
yes,  she  would  be  very  nice  and  kind,  and  so  do 
no  harm! 

She  turned  to  her  companion. 

"  Forgive  me  for  not  thanking  you  before,  Mon- 
sieur de  Folatre,  for  so  gratefully  accepting  the 
tiresome  role  of  chaperon.  Alas,  matrimony  brings 
cares!  Were  you  still  a  bachelor  you  would  have 
been  considered  an  unfit  guardian,  married  ' 

"I  am  quite  safe  ?"  de  Folatre  interrupted.  "It 
is  true,  unfortunately  but  too  true!  For  while 
I  am  judged  a  safe,  uninteresting,  old  laid-on-the- 
shelf  companion  for  a  beautiful  girl,  my  safety  is 
not  thought  of.  I  am  allowed  to  run  all  risks  of 
unhappiness.  Nobody  cares  whether  I  am  in  dan- 
ger of  suffering  from  lack  of  safeguarding  or  not." 
He  looked  at  her  reproachfully,  his  eyes  taxing 

[  '94] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


her  with  having  been  unkind.  "A  moment  ago," 
he  continued  gravely,  "I  envied  no  man.  Now 
I  feel  that  I  have  gained  little  in  getting  rid  of 
Miss  Cryden  and  my  cousin.  Luck  is  not  with 
me — as  I  had  dared  hope — but  against  me,  as 
usual." 

"Dear  me,  dear  me,"  Elinor  exclaimed,"  I  am 
so  sorry  I  said  what  I  did!  I  did  not  mean  to 
be  rude,  Monsieur.  Pray  forgive  me!  Do  not 
look  so  cast  down.  I  fancy  that  luck  is  generally 
with  you  and" — she  lowered  her  voice,  assuming 
an  air  of  playful  gravity — "to  keep  it  you  have 
but  to  safeguard  yourself  against  one  thing." 

"What  is  that?"   Matyas  demanded  eagerly. 

"Meeting  the  monk — in  the  Monk's  Walk," 
came  the  solemn  answer. 

"Really!"  exclaimed  de  Folatre.  "Is  that  the 
belief  here  ?  I  had  not  heard  it.  I  wonder  if 
there  is  any  truth  in  it.  Are  you  superstitious, 
Miss  Nelly?"  He  spoke  her  nickname  lingering- 
ly,  as  if  he  loved  it. 

"Superstitious?"  Elinor  repeated  dreamily, 
"Superstitious?  I  don't  know;  whiles  I  am,  and 
whiles  I'm  not.  I  confess  I  have  no  desire  to 
meet  the  monk  either  in  or  out  of  the  Monk's 
Walk.  The  herald  of  misfortune,  so  they  say,  to 
some  one  dwelling  beneath  the  roof  of  Villa  Fenice." 

[195] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Laszlo  met  him  last  night,"  said  de  Folatre 
briefly. 

"When?"  The  question  was  asked  almost 
sharply.  The  girl's  dreamy  manner  had  disap- 
peared. 

"When?"  Matyas  repeated  in  surprise.  "At 
what  hour,  you  mean  ?  About  a  half-hour  after 
you  had  returned  to  the  house,  after" — he  hesi- 
tated significantly — "after  you  had  picked  up  Miss 
Cryden's  scarf." 

Elinor  paid  no  attention  to  the  innuendo.  She 
had  a  curious  sensation  of  faintness.  Was  it 
the  monk  who  had  been  behind  her  on  the  ter- 
race, slipping  so  stealthily  into  the  shadow  when 
she  had  turned  to  look  back,  conscious  that  she 
was  being  followed,  albeit  she  had  heard  no 
sound  of  footsteps  ?  Could  misfortune  still  be 
dogging  her  ?  Ah,  no !  Ah,  no ! 

The  fresh  air  against  her  face  seemed  insuffi- 
cient. She  drew  off  her  gloves,  turning  her  hands 
palms  upward  on  her  lap  to  let  the  cool  breeze 
play  upon  her  wrists,  in  each  of  which  a  feverish 
pulse  was  beating  too  madly.  The  longing  to 
escape  from  her  present  surroundings  came  over 
her  with  an  intensity  that  was  a  pain.  Miss  Cry- 
den's  remark  about  Mr.  Ladoon,  and  the  ex- 
perience that  had  preceded  and  followed  it,  had 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


overstrung  her  nerves.  She  longed  passionately 
for  Alicia's  steadying  presence,  for  Alicia  who 
loved  her  and  who  was  always  kind.  Ah,  always 
kind,  the  poor  girl  said  to  herself,  with  swift  re- 
membrance of  her  duty  toward  her  cousin  and  her 
cousin's  guest.  And  again  she  was  forgetting  this 
guest! 

The  carriage  was  passing  beneath  a  great  hill 
clothed  to  its  summit  with  pines.  It  seemed  to 
Elinor  that  their  dark  shadows  gloomed  over  her, 
symbolizing  the  misfortunes  that  were  darkening 
her  life.  But  it  was  her  duty  to  talk  to  her  com- 
panion; she  strove  to  summon  a  smile  as  she 
turned  to  voice  a  commonplace  remark.  The  ef- 
fort affected  her  strangely.  To  her  intense  dis- 
comfort she  felt  the  tears  welling  up  into  her 
eyes.  A  deep  blush  of  shame  over  her  weakness 
dyed  her  lovely  face  from  brow  to  chin,  and  she 
looked  at  de  Folatre  through  her  tears  with  the 
expression  of  a  frightened  child.  What  might 
he  think  of  her  ? 

The  appealing  glance  in  the  great,  tear-dimmed 
blue  eyes  was  too  much  for  the  man  beside  her. 
In  an  instant  he  had  caught  her  hands  within  his 
own  and,  stooping,  he  covered  them  with  hot, 
passionate  kisses. 

"Ma  bien-aimee!     My  darling!"  he  murmured 

[ 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


between  his  kisses.  "God,  how  I  love  you! — 
Dieu  de  Dieu,  comme  je  t'aime!" 

For  an  instant  Elinor  did  not  seek  to  release 
her  hands  or  to  repulse  him.  His  kisses,  his 
words,  shocked  her  back  into  calmness,  the  calm- 
ness of  dull  resentment,  of  cold  disgust.  Her 
bitter  mood  returned  with  redoubled  force;  her 
tears  dried,  her  moment  of  weakness  fled. 

"Let  me  have  one  hand,  please,"  she  pleaded 
gently,  "just  one,  Monsieur!" 

De  Folatre  lifted  his  face,  a  face  white  with 
passion,  and  looked  long  into  her  eyes.  His  own 
eyes  glowed,  the  excitement  sent  the  blood  cours- 
ing fiercely  through  his  veins,  he  believed  that  he 
had  won. 

"I  may  keep  the  other,"  he  whispered,  "yes?" 

Elinor  smiled,  the  strange  sad  smile  that  seemed 
so  ill-suited  to  her  youth  and  splendid  health. 
Matyas,  interpreting  the  smile  as  a  favorable  an- 
swer, released  one  shapely  hand,  the  right  hand, 
and  again  bending  his  dark  head  pressed  his  hot 
lips  almost  fiercely  against  the  smooth  cool  palm 
left  in  his  grasp.  Elinor  made  use  of  her  par- 
tial release  oddly,  for  with  her  free  hand  she 
took  her  companion's  hat  and  tossed  it  into  the 
road. 

"Arretez!"  she  cried  to  the  coachman,  as  de 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Folatre  started  up  in  surprise.  "Monsieur  has 
lost  his  hat.  He  must  alight  and  seek  it." 

The  carriage  stopped,  Matyas  jumped  out  and 
pursued  his  head-covering  which  was  rolling 
nimbly  down  the  gutter.  As  he  recovered  it  a  red 
auto  swept  past.  Those  within  it  were  heard 
oh-ing!  and  ah-ing!  as  they  rushed  by,  in  surprise 
over  his  small  accident.  There  was  a  waving  of 
hands,  a  nodding  of  heads,  the  fluttering  of  veils, 
and  the  car  had  passed  out  of  sight. 

Elinor  was  conscious  of  the  fixed  stare  of  a  pair 
of  handsome  dark  eyes  set  in  a  melancholy  dark 
face.  Ulaszlo  was  not  enjoying  his  drive  more 
than  she  hers,  apparently. 

Matyas  now  showed  that  he  had  misunder- 
stood her  action.  "The  breeze  is  too  strong,"  he 
said  to  the  coachman.  "As  you  see,  it  blew  off 
my  hat.  We  should  like  to  have  the  carriage 
closed.  I  will  hold  the  horses  while  you  arrange 
the  cover." 

Elinor  was  unpleasantly  taken  aback,  but  only 
for  the  moment. 

"I  am  so  sorry,"  she  said  in  French,  and  she 
spoke  very  sweetly,  "a  closed  carriage  always 
makes  me  faint.  But,  of  course,"  she  looked  at 
the  coachman  and  smiled,  "Monsieur  must  not 
take  too  much  air" — she  patted  her  chest  mean-* 

[  199] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


ingly,  as  if  de  Folatre  were  a  sufferer  from  pul- 
monary complaint — "so  if  you  will  close  the  car- 
riage I  will  sit  on  the  box  with  you,  that  is,  if 
you  kindly  permit?"  Again  she  smiled  up  at 
the  man  in  friendly  fashion.  "Perhaps  you  will 
consent  to  give  me  a  lesson  in  driving  ? — in  French 
driving.  I  already  understand  how  to  hold  the 
reins  in  American  and  in  English  fashion.  It  is 
agreed — I  may  come?" 

"Charmed,  charmed, Madame,"  cried  the  coach- 
man, an  elderly  Frenchman  with  the  fine  manners 
of  the  old-time  French  servant,  "a  votre  service  !" 

He  was  delighted,  and  intensely  amused.  Im- 
agining that  de  Folatre  and  Elinor  were  a  newly 
married  couple — for,  coming  from  a  livery-stable 
he  knew  nothing  of  the  people  he  was  driving — 
he  fancied  that  they  were  having  their  first  tiff. 
The  moment  of  disillusion  while  always  sad  for 
those  concerned  is  sometimes  entertaining  to  the 
onlooker. 

"You  need  not  get  down,"  said  Matyas  dryly, 
inwardly  furious  but  outwardly  composed,  "since 
Madame  has  changed  her  mind!" 

He  got  into  the  carriage  and  gave  the  order  to 
drive  on.  For  a  few  moments  he  was  too  angry 
to  speak,  then,  controlling  himself,  he  said  with 
a  forced  smile: 

[  200  ] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"That  was  a  childish  jest!  But  I  forgive  you, 
for  you  are  little  more  than  a  child." 

Had  Elinor  known  how  she  had  been  misinter- 
preted, what  de  Folatre  had  imagined  when  she 
threw  his  hat  from  the  carriage,  it  would  have  been 
impossible  for  her  to  have  treated  him  as  though 
nothing  had  happened,  when  he  reseated  himself 
beside  her.  What  she  felt  that  she  must  ignore — 
and  this  was  sufficiently  difficult — was  the  un- 
pleasant episode  that  had  preceded  the  throwing 
of  the  hat.  Had  she  even  suspected  that  he 
thought  she  was  deliberately  giving  him  the 
chance  of  having  the  carriage  closed,  with  its  sub- 
sequent opportunities,  she  would  have  walked  the 
dusty  miles  that  lay  between  her  and  Ville-de- 
Plaisir  sooner  than  to  have  been  again  in  his  com- 
pany. As  it  was,  she  sat  in  safe  ignorance  of  the 
man,  his  morals,  and  his  view-point  of  herself. 

"I  wonder  where  the  autoists  will  stop  for  tea," 
she  said  lightly,  ignoring  his  forgiveness.  "At  the 
Casino,  I  fancy.  Your  cousin's  face  was  the  only 
one  I  saw  plainly,  they  rushed  past  so  swiftly. 
You  do  not  resemble  your  cousin,  Monsieur,  neither 
do  you  look  like  your  uncle  or  your  aunt.  You 
must  be,  as  you  say,  entirely  de  Folatre." 

"Step-uncle,  step-aunt,  step-cousin,"  Matyas 
explained  crossly.  "They  are  not  near  relatives. 
[201] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Grandfather  de  Noiraud  married  twice.  I  am 
descended  from  the  only  child  of  his  second  union. 
My  step-relatives,"  he  hesitated,  giving  a  swift  side 
glance  at  the  girl  beside  him,  "have  many  traits 
that  I — perhaps  unfortunately,  perhaps  fortunate- 
ly, qui  salt? — that  I  do  not  possess.  Curious 
traits  that,  when  a  child,  a  very  little  child,  Miss 
Ladoon,  I  used  to  admire  and  envy.  For  example, 
I  used  to  long  to  be  able  to  stare  unwinkingly  at 
any  object  for  hours  at  a  stretch — like  Laszlo. 
And  I  used  to  regret  bitterly  that  I  couldn't  do 
the  things  Laszlo  could — make  whistles  that  blew 
more  shrilly  than  any  I  could  fashion;  mend 
any  broken  toy  so  that  it  was  better  than  before; 
in  short,  I  wished  for  his  magical  powers  along 
every  line.  Later" — again  he  hesitated,  as  if  he 
wished  to  say  something  that  prudence  forbade — 
"later" — he  sighed  as  though  denying  himself  that 
pleasure — "well,  later  I  changed  my  mind." 

"Magical  powers,"  Elinor  repeated  under  her 
breath.  And  again  she  was  haunted  by  the  line 
from  the  verse  of  the  old  ballad  that  she  could 
not  recall: 

"  They  cast  the  glamour  o'er  her,  O." 

She  glanced   hastily   at  her  companion.     Had 
she  spoken  it  aloud  ?     But  Matyas  had  fallen  into 
[  202  ] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


a  reverie.  He  was  staring  straight  ahead,  absorbed 
in  thought.  In  truth,  he  was  weighing  his  chances. 
If  he  burned  his  ships  and  told  this  American  girl 
what  he  thought  might  ruin  Ulaszlo's  suit,  would 
he,  Matyas,  benefit  by  so  doing?  He  still  be- 
lieved evil  of  Elinor,  and  he  still  hoped  to  win  her 
favor  despite  the  Englishman,  her  present  lover. 
But  he  was  a  trifle  alarmed  to  find  that  he  was 
beginning  to  care  too  much  for  success.  A  game 
being  agreeable,  so  he  thought,  only  so  long  as 
you  remember  it  is  but  a  game  and  not  the  serious 
business  of  life.  Should  you  become  so  inthralled 
as  to  be  willing  to  stake  all  to  win,  you  are  play- 
ing the  part  of  fool,  and  deserve  the  scorn  of  all 
men  of  the  world,  your  peers.  Was  he,  he  asked 
himself  seriously,  beginning  to  care  too  much  for 
this  beautiful  young  woman  ?  When  she  spoke, 
the  musical  cadences  of  her  voice  charmed  him; 
when  she  looked  at  him  so  innocently  out  of  her 
great  blue  eyes — yet  she  was  not  innocent,  he  said 
to  himself  almost  fiercely. 

He  turned  and  scrutinized  her  closely.  She  had 
a  very  weary  air;  there  was  a  wistful,  pathetic 
expression  in  the  soft  eyes.  His  feelings  toward 
her  underwent  a  sudden  change.  How  lovely  she 
was,  how  gentle,  how  entirely  womanly!  He  for- 
got to  calculate  chances,  to  wonder  if  he  cared 
[203] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


too  much  for  her  or  not — in  short,  for  a  few  brief 
moments  he  forgot  himself. 

"Elinor,  my  darling,"  he  murmured,  coming 
closer  to  her,  " I  love  you  so!  No,  no,"  as  she  drew 
away  still  farther  into  the  corner  of  the  carriage, 
"do  not  fear  me!  I  swear  I  will  not  offend  again. 
I  will  deny  myself  everything  if  only  you  will 
throw  over  Delamere,  and  promise  not  to  marry 
Laszlo.  Neither  one  of  them  cares  for  you  as  I 
do.  What  is  Delamere's  easy  liking;  what  is 
Laszlo's  tame  affection,  in  comparison  with  my 
passion  ?  /  love  you,  they  do  not." 

Elinor  sighed.  How  disagreeable,  how  tire- 
some the  man  was!  In  her  present  curious  mood 
she  felt  no  indignation  at  the  insult  of  his  avowal. 
He  was  to  her  but  a  part,  a  small  part,  of  the 
miseries  existence  entailed  upon  one.  He  was 
repugnant  to  her,  but  no  more  so  than  everybody 
in  the  whole  world  save,  always,  Alicia  and  Mr. 
Ferrars.  She  had  a  great  longing  for  solitude. 
If  only  she  might  be  alone  for  a  few  hours,  quite 
alone  in  her  own  room !  She  realized  vaguely 
that  if  she  had  not  given  her  promise  to  Winifred 
to  be  civil,  she  would  then  and  there  explain  her 
sentiments  so  fully  that  even  this  conceited  favorite 
of  Fortune  could  not  fail  to  understand.  But  she 
knew  that  should  she  remind  him  of  his  wife  it 
[  204  ] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


would  be  of  no  avail,  unless  she  could  further  set 
him  right  as  to  her  own  ethics. 

"I  am  so  tired,"  she  said  plaintively,  "so  absurd- 
ly, so  ridiculously  tired,  Monsieur  de  Folatre! 
My  head  aches,  aches,  aches  I  I  am  ashamed  to 
say  how  dull,  how  stupid  I  feel.  It  is  too  bad 
that  you  should  be  condemned  to  such  a  silent 
companion,  but  really,  I  cannot  talk." 

The  road  had  here  been  tunnelled  through 
the  rocks  for  a  short  distance,  and  the  horses' 
hoofs  reverberated  from  the  roof  and  walls  like 
thunder. 

"And  this  infernal  noise!"  exclaimed  Matyas, 
eying  the  unconscious  walls  angrily.  "There," 
he  strove  to  put  his  arm  around  her,  "lean  your 
beautiful  head  upon  my  shoulder.  Perhaps  you 
may  sleep." 

"And  all  these  autos  passing — and  the  trams  ?" 
said  Elinor,  forcing  a  smile.  "Come,  Monsieur, 
do  not  oblige  me  to  take  your  nonsense  seriously. 
I  grow  crosser  each  moment,  less  able  to  enjoy 
flowers  of  speech.  Please  remain  in  your  own 
corner,  and  let  me  become  a  whole-souled  tourist.. 
We  shall  be  at  Beaulieu  presently.  I  read  about 
it  in  Baedeker  yesterday.  It  is  situated  'amid 
plantations'  of  figs,  olives,  oranges,  and  lemons. 
'Amid  plantations'  pleases  my  fancy.  But  per- 
[205] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


haps  my  imagination  has  run  away  with  me. 
That  sometimes  happens,  nest-ce  pas  ?" 

"Mine  has  certainly  run  away  with  me!"  was 
the  curt  reply,  and  Matyas  relapsed  into  his  own 
corner  and  into  gloom. 

"Then  comes  Villefranche,  a  naval  station,  an 
uninteresting  town  though  beautifully  situated. 
(I  still  quote  Baedeker),"  Elinor  continued,  ig- 
noring her  companion's  sulkiness,  "and — dear 
me,  there  must  have  been  an  accident!  See  that 
auto  at  a  stand-still  in  the  gutter." 

The  next  instant  she  was  calling  to  the  coach- 
man to  stop;  she  had  recognized  acquaintances  in 
the  two  standing  near  the  tram  track  looking  wist- 
fully for  a  car.  A  stout  woman,  plainly  dressed, 
and  a  fairy-like  little  girl  with  long,  golden  curls; 
Gwendolen  Abercrombie  Merryweather  and  her 
nurse,  Nanna. 

The  carriage  drew  up  beside  them  and  contra- 
dictory explanations  ensued.  Nurse  Nanna  com- 
plained bitterly  of  the  chauffeur's  reckless  driving: 

"That  fast,  Miss  Ladoon,  that  never  a  wink 
of  anything  could  we  see  goin'  or  comin';  and  a 
hat  can  be  holt  fast  to  and  so  kep'  on,  but  losin' 
the  breath's  serious,  an'  who  can  keep  holt  to  it 
forever  ?  And  at  last  somethin'  snapped  and  into 
the  gutter  we  went  and  stopped  short,  and  that  we 
[206] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


b'ain't  none  of  us  killed  is  God's  own  providence 
and  not  his  fault!"  She  nodded  severely  toward 
the  chauffeur.  "And  so  I've  told  him  over  and 
over,  but  he  makes  b'lieve  not  to  understand,  just 
like  all  these  tiresome  furriners!  He  knows  well 
enough,  never  fear,  but  he  won't  let  on  or  give 
in — an'  thank  you  kindly  for  offerin'  Gwenny  and 
me,  poor  child,  a  seat  in  your  carriage — that 
frightened  but  that  brave!"  She  gladly  put  her 
charge  and  herself  into  this  haven  of  refuge. 

The  chauffeur  found  in  Monsieur  de  Folatre  his 
sole  sympathizer.  The  coachman  turned  a  deaf 
ear;  being  almost  distracted  with  the  difficulty 
of  driving  his  spirited  horses  along  a  road  now 
overcrowded  with  tram  cars  and  autos,  he  had 
no  sympathy  for  any  not  in  his  line  of  business. 
But  Matyas  had  his  own  reasons  for  regretting  the 
accident.  When  he  returned  to  the  carriage  to 
find  the  small  Gwendolen  occupying  his  place  and 
the  fat  Nanna  seated  vis-a-vis  to  Elinor,  he  felt 
that  his  pipe  was  out  beyond  relighting. 

"There  is  room  for  three,"  said  Elinor,  draw- 
ing the  child  close  to  her  side.  "You  and  Gwen- 
dolen and  I  can  sit, 

'Tit  tat  toe, 
Three  in  a  row!' 

can't  we,  Gwendolen  ?" 

[207] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"No,  no,"  was  de  Folatre's  civil  answer,  as  he 
took  the  vacant  place  beside  the  nurse.  "I  will 
sit  where  I  can  look  at  you — both  "  (the  pause  made 
the  personal  pronoun  significant),  "I  love  to  look 
at  beautiful  things." 

"Yes,  sir;  yes,  sir,"  Nanna  agreed  deferentially, 
"but  some  beautiful  things  is  awful  wicked. 
Them  gamin'  rooms,  for  instance.  Oh  dear!"  She 
clasped  her  fat  hands  over  her  ample  lap,  and 
rolled  up  her  eyes  in  real  horror.  "I  just  hate  to 
go  to  Monty,  but  I  have  to,  every  two  weeks, 
sometimes  every." 

Elinor  wondered  why.  Her  eyes  asked  the 
question. 

"To  see  Miss  Gwenny's  other  grandma,  the 
grandma  for  whom  she's  named,  old  Madam 
Merryweather,  her  Grand  Merry,  as  she  calls  her 
(you've  got  two  grandmas,  ain't  you,  pet  ?). 
Grand  Amy  and  Grand  Merry  she  calls  'em  to 
keep  'em  separate.  We  couldn't  see  her  Grand 
Merry  to-day,  she  was" — a  pause,  a  heavy  sigh — 
"she  wasn't,  ahem,  she  wasn't  very  well,  she 
couldn't  see  me  and  the  child." 

"She  was  gambling,"  piped  Gwendolen  in  her 
clear  treble.  "She  was  'at  the  rooms/  Mathilde 
said,  and  I  asked  Mathilde  (you  couldn't  under- 
stand, Nanna,  because  it  was  in  French)  what  she 

[208] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


was  doing  there  and  Mathilde  said,  'Mais  elle 
/o«<?,  Madame  ta  grand'meref 

Nanna  turned  purple  with  anger.  "The  next 
time  I  see  that  French  hussy — "  she  began,  then 
remembering  herself,  "  If  you'll  please  excuse  me, 
Miss  Ladoon,  but  the  awful  stories  these  furriners 
invent  and  tell  makes  me  beside  myself!  An' 
Miss  Gwenny's  Grand  Merry,  her  papa's  mother, 
is  an  old,  old  lady,  neat  and  precise  as  you  please, 
the  last  lady  in  the  world  to  think  for  a  moment 
of  enterin'  them  rooms!" 

This  splendid  effort  at  mendacity  touched  Eli- 
nor deeply,  the  more  deeply,  perhaps,  that  she 
recognized  from  poor  Nanna's  description — given 
for  the  purpose  of  saving  the  grandmother's  repu- 
tation in  the  eyes  of  her  small  descendant — the 
terrible  old  lady  that  she  had  herself  seen  gaming. 

"Mathilde  said  so,"  persisted  the  child. 

"  But  you  didn't  believe  her  ?"  pleaded  the  nurse 
piteously. 

The  child  gazed  long  at  her,  as  if  considering 
something  very  gravely,  then  she  said  quietly: 

"I  repeated  it  to  tease  you." 

Tn.e    nurse   was   delighted.     Elinor  wondered. 

De  Folatre  laughed  out,  amused. 


[209] 


XIX 

"O'er  all  that  flutter  their  wings  and  fly 
A  hawk  is  hovering  .  .  ." 

THE  sun  had  set  before  Elinor  with  her  com- 
panions reached  Ville-de-Plaisir,  but  the 
sky  was  luminous  with  a  wonderful  pink  after- 
glow; and  from  the  midst  of  the  roseate  splendor 
the  moon  smiled  down  upon  the  city  of  pleasure, 
the  tranquil  sea,  and  the  everlasting  hills.  Mat- 
yas,  asking  and  receiving  permission  to  stop  at  a 
florist's,  ran  into  the  shop  so  quickly  that  he  did 
not  notice  the  man  who  had  just  emerged  from 
its  doorway,  Mr.  Delamere. 

"Home  again,  safe  and  sound?"  said  the  Eng- 
lishman coming  up  to  the  carriage.  "What  a 
perfect  day  you  have  had — and  now  this  glory!" 
He  motioned  toward  the  heavens.  "But  bless 
me — affecting  to  start  back  in  surprise — "here's 
magic!  Miss  Cryden  changed  into  little  Gwen, 
and  slim  de  Noiraud  into  plump  Nanna!  Miss 
Ladoon  is  a  witch — but  I  always  suspected  it." 

Gwendolen's  childish  laugh  rang  out;  Nanna 
chuckled  with  pleasure. 

[210] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Get  in,"  said  Elinor,  smiling  her  welcome. 
"Gwendolen  will  make  room  for  you,  I  know." 

The  child  gladly  squeezed  herself  close  against 
Elinor,  and  Mr.  Delamere  took  the  place  made 
for  him. 

"Gwen  adores  me,"  he  said  in  a  stage  whisper 
over  her  small  head,  "but  it's  a  secret,  you  mustn't 
tell.  We're  to  be  married  when  she  grows  up. 
Live  in  Turkey,  you  know,  where  four  wives  are 
all  the  fashion.  Mrs.  Delamere  is  charmed  at  the 
idea." 

"Four wives?"  Gwendolen  objected.  "No,  no, 
no!  Just  two,  me  and  Mrs.  Delamere.  Who  else 
do  you  want  'sides  me  and  her?" 

"  I  haven't  made  up  my  mind,"  was  the  answer, 
"but  I  must  leave  myself  the  chance  for  two  more. 
If  I'm  a  Turk  I  mean  to  be  a  fashionable  Turk, 
I  mean  to  have  the  correct  number  of  wives  if  I 
die  for  it!" 

"Take  Miss  Ladoon,  and — and  Nanna,"  Gwen- 
dolen impishly  suggested,  with  the  saucy  freedom 
of  an  overpetted  child,  while  she  giggled  wildly 
at  her  own  nonsense  and  Nanna  vainly  tried  to 
whisper  her  into  order. 

"You  take  these,"  said  Mr.  Delamere  to  Elinor, 
laying  a  box  upon  her  lap.  "Violets;  I  had  them 
put  in  the  box  to  keep  them  fresh.  Stick  some  in 
[211] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


your  hair  to-night.  She  looks  nice  with  a  posy 
in  her  hair,  doesn't  she,  Gwenny?" 

"Mr.  Delamere  likes  you  the  best,"  the  child 
began,  then  broke  off  as  she  saw  de  Folatre  open- 
ing the  carriage  door. 

"De  Folatre!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Delamere,  half 
rising.  "Bon  soir,  Monsieur,  I  fear  I  have  your 
place!" 

"No  indeed,"  was  the  suave  answer  as  Matyas 
seated  himself  beside  Nanna,  "you  are  where  you 
belong,  Mr.  Delamere.  You  could  not  take  my 
place — I  had  none."  Then,  addressing  Elinor, 
"  Is  it  worth  while  to  offer  you  flowers  ?  I  see  you 
have  a  lapful  already" — glancing  at  the  now  open 
box  of  violets — "my  poor  orchids  will  be  what  the 
English  call  'coals  to  Newcastle.' ' 

"They  are  lovely,"  said  Elinor,  accepting  gra- 
ciously the  bunch  of  purple  orchids  proffered  her. 
"Thank  you,  Monsieur!" 

"Will  you  wear  them  in  your  hair,  too  ?"  queried 
small  Gwendolen  in  clear  if  low  tones.  "Can  a 
lady  have  four  husbands — if  she  lives  in  Tur- 
key?" 

Delamere  burst  out  laughing.  The  child  shrank 
back,  startled  that  she  had  been  overheard  now 
that  de  Folatre  was  present. 

"Four  husbands?"  asked  that  gentleman. 
[212  ] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Why  must  Miss  Ladoon  go  to  Turkey  to  have 
four  husbands  ?" 

He  spoke  pleasantly  but  there  was  something  in 
his  tone  that  grated  upon  Elinor,  while  Mr.  Dela- 
mere  was  obliged  to  do  battle  with  a  strong  de- 
sire to  fall  upon  his  vis-a-vis  and  throw  him  out 
of  the  carriage.  Fat  Nanna  told  herself  that 
"furriners"  were  always  disagreeable,  and  wished 
that  the  "French  gentleman"  had  "took  himself 
home  on  the  tram."  Gwendolen,  overtired  and 
suddenly  irate,  gave  tongue: 

"  You're  cross,"  she  said  judicially,  gazing  upon 
the  delinquent  with  unfriendly  eyes.  "You're  an- 
gry 'cause  you  didn't  get  your  flowers  here  first. 
'Corpse  flowers,'  Grand  Amy  calls  them,  mean- 
ing ghouls,  creatures  living  on  dead  stuff.  They 
grow  in  the  'Arabian  Nights,'  among  the  Turks. 
That's  why  we  aren't  really  going  to  Turkey,  me 
and  Mr.  Delamere  and  Miss  Ladoon.  If  we 
choose  to  get  married,  all  of  us,  we'll  just  do  it 
here.  But  Grand  Amy  says  that  Miss  Ladoon's 
a  sweet  girl,  but  she  believes  she  doesn't  want  to 
marry  anybody.  Grand  Amy  says " 

"Then  hush,  dearie,  do,"  urged  poor  Nanna, 
wretched  over  her  ordinarily  quiet  charge's  sud- 
den flow  of  speech. 

She    urged    in   vain.     Little    Gwendolen,    very 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


weary,  overexcited — first  by  the  unwelcome  in- 
telligence that  her  Grand  Merry  was  a  gambler, 
and  then  by  the  lie  with  which,  to  bring  comfort 
to  her  beloved  nurse,  she  believed  she  had  stained 
her  young  soul — Gwendolen,  scarcely  hearing, 
paid  no  heed. 

"Grand  Amy  says,"  she  persisted,  still  address- 
ing the  now  fascinated  Matyas,  "that  she  hopes 
Miss  Ladoon  will  flirt  the  heads  off  all  the  fortune- 
hunting  foreigners  that  she  meets,  for  they  de- 
serve it.  Grand  Amy" — transferring  her  atten- 
tion with  awful  swiftness  to  Delamere — "Grand 
Amy  says  that  she  wishes  you  weren't  married." 

"Good  Lord,  Gwenny,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Dela- 
mere, "  I  believe  you've  got  the  nightmare !  Wake 
up,  child,  wake  up!  'Awake  thee,  my  lady  love, 
wake  thee  and  rise.'  Or,  better  still,  curl  your 
small  self  up  into  a  ball  and  go  to  sleep.  Here, 
I'll  make  you  comfortable."  He  drew  the  tired 
child  into  his  arms,  covering  her  close  with  the 
rug  and  humming  a  song  under  his  breath. 

"I'm  sorry  if  I've  talked  too  much,"  said 
Gwendolen,  "and  I'm  sorry  if  I've  been  rude. 
Grand  Amy  says " 

"Later,"  interrupted  Delamere,  "tell  us  later 
what  she  says.  Look  up  at  the  moon  now,  and 
I'll  tell  you  a  story.  Once  upon  a  time,"  he  low- 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


ered  his  voice.  The  story  was  for  the  child  only. 
In  a  few  moments  he  ceased  murmuring  drowsy 
sentences.  The  child  seemed  asleep. 

Nanna  took  this  opportunity  to  offer  an  apol- 
ogy- 

"She's  so  small  of  her  age,"  she  whispered 
pleadingly,  "that  she's  thought  younger  nor  she 
is,  and  everybody  pets  her  too  much.  And  some- 
times, when  the  fit  seizes  her,  she  takes  advan- 
tage of  lookin'  babyish  to  be  saucy.  I  hope  you'll 
overlook  it,  Miss  Ladoon,  and  Sir!" — overlooking, 
herself,  Monseiur  de  Folatre,  the  chief  sufferer. 

She  was  assured  that  the  child  had  done  no 
harm,  and  upon  the  carriage  stopping  at  the  hotel 
door  Mr.  Delamere  offered  to  carry  little  Gwendo- 
len upstairs. 

"I  prefer  walking,  thank  you,"  said  Miss 
Gwendolen,  opening  bright,  sleepless  eyes  to  gaze 
upon  the  astonished  party  of  grown-ups. 

"Gracious!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Delamere,  "I 
thought  you  were  sound  asleep,  Gwenny.  When 
did  you  wake  up  ?" 

The  child  vouchsafed  no  answer,  but  slipping 
her  small  hand  into  Elinor's  announced  that  she 
would  like  to  walk  upstairs  with  her. 

"Nanna  must  get  my  supper  ready,"  she  con- 
fided, as  they  mounted  the  stairs  side  by  side. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Why  couldn't  you  sleep,  Gwendolen  ?"  Eli- 
nor asked. 

"Because  of  God,"  was  the  strange  reply. 
"He  sees  us  all  the  time  and  hears  everything." 
She  sighed  heavily,  and  Elinor  suspected  that  the 
small  fib  told  was  weighing  upon  her  conscience. 

But  Gwendolen  kept  her  own  counsel.  At  the 
top  of  the  staircase  they  met  an  American  lady, 
a  stately,  agreeable  woman,  with  whom  Elinor 
would  gladly  have  affiliated  had  she  been  allowed. 
As  she  stopped  to  inquire  politely  about  the  drive 
to  Menton,  two  Russians  passed  them  fluently 
conversing  in  their  mother-tongue.  The  Ameri- 
can raised  her  eyebrows  and  smiled  at  Elinor. 

"This  is  the  Tower  of  Babel,"  she  said  whim- 
sically. "I  counted  ten  different  nationalities  in 
the  fumoir  last  evening.  Every  day  I  expect  to 
see  people  from  Borneo  walk  in!  Do  you  like 
foreigners  ?  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  La- 
doon"  (this  in  evident  embarrassment),  "I  was 
only  talking  nonsense,  you  know."  And  she  made 
a  hasty  departure. 

"I  hope  they  will  come,"  said  Gwendolen,  her 
eyes  shining  with  excitement,  "I'd  love  to  see 
them  dearly,  though  I'd  be  a  little  afraid — wouldn't 
you  ?  But  no,  you  wouldn't,  for  you're  with 
queer  people  all  day  long.  Not  that  your  Hun- 

[2.6] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


garians  wear  just  furs,  or  just  feathers,  or  just 
nothing,  as  I  suppose  Borneo  people  do.  Grand 
Amy  says  they  aren't  real  Hungarians,  anyway, 
and  she  doesn't  believe  they'd  be  looked  at  at 
the  Austrian  court.  That's  her  door;  good-night, 
good-night!" 

She  flitted  away  down  the  corridor,  her  long 
curls  dancing,  waving  her  small  hand.  She  looked 
like  a  little  fairy — a  naughty  one! 

Elinor  went  swiftly  to  her  own  room,  but  when 
she  had  entered  and  closed  the  door  she  found 
that  solitude  could  not  bring  her  what  she  desired, 
forgetfulness.  She  made  her  toilet  for  dinner, 
and  placed  the  flowers  given  her  in  vases,  not  in 
her  hair.  Berthe  came  presently  with  a  mes- 
sage from  Miss  Cryden  to  the  effect  that  that 
lady  had  returned,  that  she  had  a  headache,  and 
that  she  did  not  wish  to  be  disturbed. 

Elinor  going  down  alone  to  dinner  found  Mr. 
Delamere  waiting  for  her  at  the  foot  of  the  stair- 
case. 

"I  am  to  dine  with  you,  if  you  don't  object," 
he  said.  "Miss  Cryden's  invitation — or  order. 
You  shall  choose  for  yourself,  however.  The  ir- 
ritated but  ardent  de  Folatre,  and  the  adoring 
but  timid  de  Noiraud,  would  sell  their  peculiarly 
constituted  souls  for  the  chance." 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"I  prefer  my  English  cousin,  thank  you,"  said 
Elinor,  sweeping  a  courtesy,  "if  he  will  so  far 
condescend." 

"Condescend,  Mademoiselle,"  exclaimed  Dela- 
mere,  pressing  his  hand  to  his  heart  with  mock 
rapture,  "how  little  you  understand  my  feelings!" 

"You  may  find  me  a  dull  companion — after 
Gwendolen,"  was  the  laughing  response.  "Come, 
we  are  late,  let  us  go  in!" 

The  room  was  full.  It  looked  bright  and  pret- 
ty; the  electric  lights  reflected  from  the  mirrors, 
the  flower-adorned  tables  surrounded  by  gayly 
dressed  people.  Mr.  Delamere  and  Elinor  re- 
ceived much  secret  and  open  attention  as  they 
walked  the  length  of  the  room  together  and 
seated  themselves  at  Miss  Cryden's  table.  The 
de  Noirauds  were  not  far  distant.  Mr.  Delamere 
presently  complained  of  their  neighborhood. 

"I  feel  their  united  eyes  boring  through  my 
back,"  he  said  mournfully.  "It's  a  strange  sen- 
sation, and  not  a  pleasing  one.  I  suppose  they  are 
managing  to  stare  you  out  of  countenance  at  the 
same  time  ?" 

"Yes" — she  lowered  her  voice  to  a  murmur — 
"but  I  have  grown  accustomed  to  their  ways. 
You  must  speak  very  softly  if  you  don't  wish  to 
be  overheard." 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Accustomed  to  their  ways!"  Mr.  Delamere  re- 
peated, dropping  his  voice  and  leaning  forward 
across  the  little  table.  "  Pope's  neat  remark  about 
vice  might  come  in  here,  but  I  will  spare  you." 

"They  are  not  in  need  of  pity — and  I  never 
shunned  them,"  said  Elinor. 

"How  about  embracing  them?"  inquired  Del- 
amere. 

"  I  am  not  affectionate,  I  fear,"  was  the  demure 
reply. 

"The  ears  of  the  Russian  lady  on  my  right, 
and  those  of  the  German  gentleman  to  your  left, 
are  starting  from  their  respective  heads  in  an  effort 
to  hear  what  we  say,  "murmured  Delamere,  "and 
the  eyes  of  the  French  vicomtesse  are  threatening 
to  fall  into  her  plate,  she's  staring  at  you  so  in- 
tensely. Grand  Amy  looks  approving.  She  knows 
the  Transylvanians  are  getting  the  indigestion. 
She's  a  handsome  woman.  I  like  her." 

"She  likes  you,"  said  Elinor.  "She  is  a  woman 
of  taste." 

"Thank  you!  Will  you  help  me  with  yours 
this  evening  ?  I  want  to  paint  either  a  picture  of 
the  three  cypress  trees  by  moonlight,  or  one  of 
the  palm.  I  haven't  time  to  do  both.  Come  into 
the  garden  after  dinner,  and  take  a  look  and  help 
me  decide."  Elinor  hesitated.  "Are  you  think- 
[219] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


ing  of  cards  with  the  Huns  ?  Nonsense,  let  them 
wait  for  their  game!  There  are  four  of  them, 
let  them  play  together — to-night." 

"So  be  it,"  said  Elinor,  and,  dinner  ended,  she 
slipped  from  a  side  door  of  the  dining-room  and 
away  upstairs  to  fetch  a  wrap. 

"And  you  persist  that  he  is  nothing  to  her!" 
said  de  Folatre  fiercely  to  Ulaszlo,  as  the  two 
drew  apart  into  a  corner  of  the  fumoir  to  smoke 
their  cigarettes  after  dinner. 

"I  think  they  are  just  friends — in  the  English 
sense  of  the  word,"  Ulaszlo  replied.  "I  think, 
also,"  he  continued,  speaking  mildly,  his  hand- 
some face  coldly  expressionless,  "that  you  would 
do  well  to  return  to  England.  I  find  it  offensive, 
the  manner  in  which  you  speak  of  my  fiancee  that 
is  to  be." 

Matyas  laughed.  "Fiancee  that  is  to  be — per- 
haps; "  he  said  scornfully,  "wife,  never!  What 
have  you  to  offer,  pray,  to  a  girl  like  that  ?  Rich, 
and  beautiful,  and  a  flirt.  What  opportunities  can 
you  give  her  to  dazzle  women  with  her  money 
and  men  with  her  eyes  ?  Your  name  amounts  to 
just  nothing — and  you  know  it.  Can  you  give  her 
the  position  she  has  the  right  to  demand  ?  But 
perhaps  you  think  you  can  win  her  heart  because 
of  your  beaux  yeux.  Her  heart,  grand  Dieu!" 
[  220  ] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Again  he  laughed  rudely.  Ulaszlo  turned  very 
pale.  His  face,  before  so  handsome  in  its  cold 
composure,  changed  swiftly,  the  expression  that 
swept  across  it  giving  it  a  new  character.  The 
eyes,  narrowing  into  slits,  gained  the  fierce  brill- 
iancy of  those  of  an  enraged  animal,  his  lips,  draw- 
ing aside,  showed  his  white  teeth  as  he  snarled 
his  answer: 

"Do  not  try  me  too  far,  Matyas!  If  you  are 
really  my  rival  you  shall  pay  for  it — cousin  or 
no  cousin."  He  rose  and  walked  away. 

"The  fool!"  de  Folatre  said  to  himself.  "Does 
he  wish  to  fight  me  ?" 

At  that  moment  he  espied  Elinor  upon  the 
staircase.  She  was  on  her  way  down,  but  turned 
suddenly  and  vanished  upward,  around  the  hid- 
den windings  of  the  stair.  Not  so  quickly,  how- 
ever, but  that  he  had  time  to  see  that  she  carried 
a  wrap.  In  an  instant  he  was  upon  his  feet  and 
slipping  quietly  along  the  corridor  of  the  old  villa. 
Ah,  it  was  as  he  had  supposed;  again  the  Eng- 
lishman! 

Mr.  Delamere  was  lounging  in  the  hall  where 
stood  the  billiard-table,  and,  oblivious  apparently 
of  the  advisability  of  not  calling  attention  to  the 
clandestine  evening  walk  he  was  about  to  have 
with  a  beautiful  woman,  he  was — Matyas  could 
[221] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


hardly  believe  his  eyes  and  ears — he  was  actually 
knocking  about  the  balls  in  a  manner  both  reck- 
less and  compromising! 

The  Frenchman  kept  out  of  sight  in  the  scantily 
lighted  corridor  and  waited.  He  was  so  angry 
that  the  emotion  was  a  distress;  so  angry  that  he 
longed  to  inflict  suffering  upon  Elinor.  How 
dared  she  show  her  preference  so  openly!  How 
dared  she  treat  him  with  indifference!  As  for 
the  Englishman,  death  should  be  his  penalty.  A 
duel,  later;  and  de  Folatre  promised  himself  to 
shoot  straight.  In  short,  the  man  was  beside 
himself  with  injured  vanity  and  balked  passion. 

Presently  Elinor  came  smiling  into  view  from 
the  staircase  of  the  old  villa.  She  was  very  pale  but 
her  eyes  shone  like  stars.  She  nodded  gayly  to  the 
the  artist. 

"Come  into  the  garden — Sir"  she  sang  sweetly. 
"The  night  is  exquisite!" 

"But  cold,"  said  Delamere,  dropping  his  bil- 
liard cue  and  putting  her  wrap  around  her. 
"The  old  gardener  prophesies  frost  on  this  hill- 
top. Your  beloved  heliotrope  will  have  none  save 
blackened  blossoms  to  offer  you  to-morrow." 

They  went  out  into  the  night.  There  was  a 
hush  upon  the  garden.  It  was  as  though  trees 
and  flowers  alike  knew  that  Jack  Frost  was  ex- 
[  222  ] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


pected  and  with  silent  courage  stood  fast,  await- 
ing their  enemy.  The  points  of  the  cypresses  of 
the  Monk's  Walk  were  as  a  line  of  uplifted  dag- 
gers against  the  luminous  sky;  the  satiny  leaves 
of  the  magnolia  trees  gleamed  in  the  moonlight 
like  armor.  The  two  friends  descended  the  alley 
leading  to  the  tall  palm  that  the  artist  wished  to 
paint.  As  they  neared  it  Mr.  Delamere's  name 
was  called,  and  a  waiter  ran  after  him  with  a 
telegram. 

"I  must  go  back  to  the  house  for  a  moment,'* 
he  said  after  reading  it.     "Will  you  come  too?" 

"Can't  I  wait  here — in  the  garden?"    Elinor 
asked. 

Delamere  turned  to  the  waiter — was  it  safe  ? 

"  But  certainly,  at  this  early  hour,"  declared  that 
oracle,  and  Elinor  was  left  alone. 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  silence  in  the  gar- 
den, a  silence  that  was  balm  to  the  girl's  weary 
spirit.  But  presently  the  quiet  was  broken  by  the 
sound  of  a  stealthy  tread.  Some  one  was  coming 
quickly,  yet  warily,  down  the  path  above  the 
Monk's  Walk.  The  night  was  so  still  that  every 
sound  rang  out  with  startling  clearness,  and  the  per- 
son approaching,  paused  after  stepping  too  heavily 
upon  a  rebounding  pebble,  recommencing  his,  or 
her,  advance  with  greater  caution  than  before. 
[223] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Instantly  Elinor  began  a  retreat  toward  the 
hotel.  Leaving  the  paved  alley  she  betook  her- 
self as  lightly  as  a  bird  to  the  path  farthest  from 
the  one  above  the  Monk's  Walk,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  garden,  and  up  this  she  went  until  she 
reached  the  terrace  where  stood  the  grotto.  The 
hotel  was  now  but  a  flight  of  steps  and  the  breadth 
of  the  upper  terrace  distant.  She  slipped  into 
the  grotto.  Surely  she  might  wait  there  until  the 
other  night  bird  had  passed  on  out  of  the  garden. 

The  grotto  was  all  shadowy  corners  despite  the 
flood  of  moonlight  outside.  The  voice  of  the 
fountain  was  stilled  by  the  moss  upon  which  its 
tiny  streamlet  fell.  Here  again  was  silence — and 
peace. 

On  one  side  of  the  grotto  (that  close  to  which 
the  mortuary  tablet  was  affixed  to  the  terrace  wall) 
was  an  arched  entrance,  while  two  smaller  corner 
entrances  gave  upon  the  terrace  on  the  opposite 
side.  Elinor  stood  in  one  of  these  smaller  arch- 
ways looking  at  the  line  of  cypress  points  against 
the  sky  when  she  again  heard  the  sound  of  foot- 
steps. This  time  they  rang  out  upon  the  paved 
alley,  the  grande  allee  of  the  garden.  The  person 
was  hastily  returning  toward  the  villa. 

As  she  drew  back  into  the  shadow  that  she 
might  see  without  being  seen,  she  noticed  that  the 
[224] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


door  of  the  hollow  in  the  wall,  where  tools  were 
kept,  stood  wide.  She  shuddered  as  she  glanced 
at  the  small  black  cavern,  remembering  for  what 
purpose  it  had  been  made,  then  shaking  off  the 
sensation  as  foolish,  she  concentrated  her  atten- 
tion upon  the  approaching  unknown.  In  another 
moment  a  man  emerged  from  beneath  the  magno- 
lias and  stood  hesitating  as  if  uncertain  which  di- 
rection to  take.  The  moon's  rays  fell  full  upon 
his  face.  It  was  Monsieur  de  Folatre. 

Elinor  stood  rigid,  holding  her  breath.  She 
had  no  wish  to  be  discovered  by  this  spying  sou- 
pirant.  She  felt  indignant.  It  was  an  imperti- 
nence, this  unceasing  dogging  of  her  footsteps. 

Monsieur  de  Folatre  turned  suddenly,  making 
straight  for  the  grotto.  Elinor  dared  not  take 
refuge  in  flight.  She  felt  that  she  could  not  run 
fast  enough  to  outstrip  her  pursuer  in  a  race  for 
the  hotel.  She  drew  back  still  further  into  the 
dark  corner  of  the  arch.  Perhaps  he  might  not 
enter  the  grotto.  A  moment  of  suspense,  and  he 
had  taken  the  path  which  led  past  it.  She  breathed 
freely,  thinking  her  escape  assured,  but  she  rejoiced 
too  soon.  Before  she  could  make  use  of  her  free- 
dom de  Folatre  was  returning.  This  time  his 
steps  were  directed  toward  the  broad  entrance 
opposite  to  where  she  stood. 

[225] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


With  the  frightened  haste  of  an  imaginative 
child  who  plays  hide-and-seek  until  the  game  as- 
sumes real  dangers,  Elinor  left  her  dark  corner 
to  slip  into  the  very  place  that  had  before  excited 
her  terror,  the  place  which  held  the  gardener's 
tools.  Pushing  its  rickety  door  to  behind  her  she 
stood  in  darkness,  her  pulses  beating  loudly.  She 
heard  de  Folatre  pause  outside  the  door  for  a 
brief  moment;  she  thought,  he  took  hold  of  it,  as 
if  contemplating  looking  in,  but  she  could  not 
be  sure.  Then  came  the  sound  of  his  retreating 
footsteps  and  she  waited,  her  hands  clasped  close, 
her  lips  pressed  tightly  together,  fearing  he  might 
return.  She  must  be  very  silent,  she  told  herself, 
as  silent  as  the  grave.  Ah!  where  was  she  now 
but  in  a  grave  ? 

At  this  thought  her  heart  stood  still  and  she 
began  to  reproach  herself  for  the  folly  of  her 
flight.  Far  better  to  have  met  de  Folatre  and  ex- 
plained why  she  was  alone  in  the  garden.  Even 
had  she  told  him  plainly  that  she  preferred  to  wait 
alone  for  Mr.  Delamere  it  would  have  been  more 
sensible  than  to  have  taken  refuge  thus,  under- 
ground! She  would  go  out  at  once  and  treat  the 
affair  as  a  jest.  She  pulled  the  door  lightly,  expect- 
ing it  to  open.  It  did  not  move.  She  exerted  her 
full  strength,  but  without  avail.  It  remained  fast. 

[226] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Made  of  planks  roughly  nailed  together,  and 
with  merely  a  staple  for  a  padlock  on  the  outside, 
the  door  was  a  difficult  one  to  manage  from  with- 
in. As  the  boards  had  warped  badly  there  were 
wide  cracks  between  them,  and  the  moonlight 
filtering  in  enabled  Elinor,  grown  accustomed  to 
the  darkness,  to  see  by  its  faint  glimmer  the  objects 
thrown  carelessly  on  the  floor.  Selecting  a  trowel 
from  among  the  tools  at  her  feet  she  thrust  its 
blade  between  the  planks  and  endeavored  to  force 
the  door  open,  but  without  success.  Then  she 
realized  that  de  Folatre  had  touched  the  door, 
and  that  he  had  done  so  with  purpose;  he  had 
fastened  her  in. 

Her  horror  of  the  place  died  suddenly.  The 
shock  of  finding  herself  locked  in  steadied  her. 
Face  to  face  with  a  real  difficulty  the  terrors  of 
imagination  vanished.  She  told  herself  that  Mr. 
Delamere  would  be  coming  presently,  and  that 
he  would  release  her,  and  she  listened  eagerly  for 
his  footsteps.  But  the  night  that  had  been  so  still 
seemed  to  her  to  suddenly  grow  noisy.  She  imag- 
ined that  she  heard  footsteps  coming  now  from 
this  direction,  now  from  that.  They  would  turn 
toward  the  grotto,  then  stop  short  and  neither 
retreat  nor  advance;  when  others  would  echo 
from  the  opposite  end  of  the  terrace,  and  again 
[227] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


she  would  feel  certain  of  escape  and  knock  loudly 
while  she  cried  out  for  help. 

In  her  excited  fancy  the  minutes  had  lengthened 
into  hours  and  she  believed  that  midnight  was 
near.  What  if  de  Folatre  should  leave  her  shut 
away  all  night  ?  Could  it  be  possible  that  a  gen- 
tleman would  play  so  vile  a  trick  ?  The  fasten- 
ing was  so  simple  a  one!  The  mere  slipping  of 
a  stick  through  the  staples.  She  pulled  again  with 
all  her  force.  It  must  give,  it  should,  it  should! 
Panting,  breathless,  she  stopped  at  last,  her  efforts 
unavailing.  Leaning  against  the  door  she  stared 
through  its  cracks  into  the  moonlit  world  out- 
side, struggling  to  keep  back  the  tears  and  re- 
peating, almost  childishly,  a  petition  to  be  re- 
leased. 

"I  am  so  tired.  Please,  some  one,  come  and  let 
me  out!" 

As  if  in  answer  to  her  prayer,  some  one  came. 

From  around  the  corner  of  the  grotto  there 
glided  the  tall  dark  figure  of  a  cowled  monk. 
Elinor  shrank  back  into  the  farthest  corner  of 
the  narrow  cell  overcome  by  superstitious  dread. 

The  monk  crossed  the  terrace  with  noiseless  step 
and,  unfastening  the  door  gently,  pushed  it  wide. 
Stooping  he  looked  in  for  a  brief  instant  then, 
sighing  deeply,  turned  and  glided  away. 

[228] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Coming  to  her  senses  Elinor  went  swiftly  into 
the  open,  crying  faintly: 

"I  thank  you,  oh,  I  thank  you!" 

But  the  monk  had  disappeared. 

"Miss  Ladoon,  are  you  there?"  rang  out  a 
cheerful  voice,  Mr.  Delamere's.  He  ran  lightly 
down  the  steps  and  joined  her.  "I've  kept  you 
waiting  twenty  minutes!  Why,  you  look  tired  to 
death,  you're  whiter  than  white  in  the  moonlight. 
Three  different  fools  button-holed  me  on  my  way 
out.  A  masked  ball  the  topic  of  every  one  of 
them.  I'm  awfully  sorry  I  was  so  long.  Would 
you  rather  go  in  now  ?  We  can  look  at  the  palm 
to-morrow  evening." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Elinor  (was  there  some  one  in 
the  clump  of  trees  and  bushes  behind  her?).  "No, 
indeed"  (she  rapidly  decided  upon  keeping  her 
adventure  secret),  "I  am  quite  ready  to  view  the 
palm  "  (of  what  use  to  create  enmity  between 
Delamere  and  de  Folatre  ?).  "A  masked  ball  ? 
When — and  why?" 

"Soon,"  said  Mr.  Delamere,  "and  for  the  pur- 
pose of  showing  off  carnival  dresses.  There," 
pausing  at  the  end  of  the  alley,  "look  at  it,"  in- 
dicating the  palm,  "the  pride  of  the  garden — and 
my  despair!" 

[229] 


XX 

"  'Here  come  the  gypsies!' 

"...  who  fixed  their  eyes  upon  the  clergyman  with 
a  certain  strange,  immovable  stare,  which  I  believe  to  be 
peculiar  to  their  race." 

"North  they  go,  south  they  go,  trooping  or  lonely, 
And  still,  as  they  travel  far  and  wide, 
Catch  they  and  keep  now  a  trace  here,  a  trace  there, 
That  puts  you  in  mind  of  a  place  here,  a  place  there." 

ELINOR  awoke  the  next  morning  with  a 
feeling  of  distaste  for  life.  And  it  was  with 
a  sensation  of  self-disgust  that  she  thought  of  her 
promise  to  Winifred  in  regard  to  pleasing  Ulaszlo. 
Her  impulse  to  range  herself  upon  Winifred's  side, 
her  acquiescence  in  that  foolish  woman's  weak 
attempt  at  revenge,  seemed  to  her  now  perfectly 
incomprehensible. 

"Those  whom  the  gods  would  destroy  they 
first  make  mad,"  she  quoted  to  herself  drearily. 
"Surely  I  was  mad  when  I  consented  to  become 
her  puppet,  when  I  stooped  to  become  part  of  so 
ridiculous,  so  undignified  a  scheme.  What  does 
it  matter  that  she  and  I  have  both  been  jilted  ? 
Who  are  we,  forsooth,  to  grumble  over  so  paltry 

[23°] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


a  misfortune  ?  Misfortune  ?  Is  it  a  misfortune  to 
discover  in  time  that  what  you  took  for  gold  was 
but  gilded  lead  ?  I  am  sick  unto  death  of  this  sen- 
timental nonsense!" 

She  set  herself  to  search  for  some  occupation 
and  applied  herself  diligently  to  the  simple  tasks 
found,  striving  thus  to  banish  thoughts  of  Wini- 
fred (and  of  de  Folatre's  folly)  from  her  tired  mind. 
The  morning  was  half  gone  when  Berthe  knocked 
and  said  that  Miss  Cryden  would  like  to  see  her. 

"Is  she  up  and  dressed,  Berthe  ?"  Elinor  asked. 

"For  over  two  hours,  Mademoiselle,"  Berthe 
answered,  nodding  wisely.  "Letters — and  cos- 
tumes for  the  ball.  I  have  already  been  to  the 
city  to  get  books  and  pictures  of  costumes." 

"What  ball?"   Elinor  demanded. 

"The  masked  ball,  Mademoiselle,"  was  the 
eager  reply,  and  Elinor  remembered  what  Dela- 
mere  had  told  her  in  the  garden. 

Miss  Cryden  was  pacing  her  salon,  the  long 
train  of  her  blue  silk  negligee  switching,  in  her 
rapid  turns,  like  the  tail  of  an  angry  cat.  Great 
black  circles  beneath  her  eyes  and  feverish  red 
spots  on  either  cheek  betrayed  a  state  of  excite- 
ment that  caused  Elinor  to  wonder.  How  was  it 
possible  that  a  ball  should  arouse  such  interest  in 
a  woman  of  her  cousin's  age  ? 

[231  ] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Go  into  my  bedroom,  Berthe,  and  finish  rip- 
ping up  that  skirt,"  Miss  Cryden  commanded, 
"and  shut  the  door  after  you.  Elinor,"  as  Berthe 
made  her  exit,  "speak  English;  I  don't  want  that 
French  minx  to  hear  what  we  say.  She's  quite 
capable  of  gluing  her  ear  to  the  keyhole.  Do  you 
see  these  ?" 

She  pointed  to  the  table,  on  which  lay  a  small 
heap  of  books  surmounted  by  a  picture  and  an 
open  letter. 

"Choosing  a  costume  for  the  carnival — and  the 
ball?"  Elinor  inquired. 

Miss  Cryden  burst  out  laughing.  "Oh,  yes," 
she  sneered,  "choosing  a  costume,  a  costume  for 
you,  Nelly.  An  ancestral  costume,  one  that  must 
surely  please  our  aristocratic  friends."  Again 
she  laughed,  laughed  unpleasantly. 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Elinor.  "An  ances- 
tral costume,  Winnie  ?  Old  Colonial,  you  mean  ?" 
and  going  to  the  table  she  took  up  the  picture. 

It  was  a  photograph  of  a  picture  by  Vernet-Le- 
comte.  Underneath  it  was  printed: 

TSIGANE    VALAQUE. 

"Tsigane,"   said   Elinor,   "that   means   gypsy. 
What  a  handsome,  sombre-browed,  slip  of  a  girl! 
Her  dress  is  charming,  Winnie." 
[232] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Oh,  yes,  charming,  beguiling"  was  the  sneer- 
ing reply,  "and  doubtless  she  was  as  charming 
and  beguiling  as  others  of  her  vile  race.  Oh,  to 
think  of  it,  to  think  of  it!"  She  stamped  her  foot 
angrily.  "I,  a  Ladoon,  beguiled  by  a  low " 

She  broke  off  and  flung  away  to  the  end  of  the 
room  where,  facing  Elinor,  she  quoted  in  a  tense 
undertone: 

"  Like  a  right  gypsy,  hath,  at  fast  and  loose, 
Beguiled  me  to  the  very  heart  of  loss." 

Sinking  into  a  chair  she  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands.  Elinor,  at  a  loss  what  to  do  or  say, 
stood  silent  regarding  the  photograph.  Miss  Cry- 
den,  withdrawing  her  twitching  hands,  began  to 
speak  rapidly. 

"I  found  that  letter" — indicating  the  one  upon 
the  table — "when  I  got  home  last  evening.  It's 
from  the  man  I  told  you  about.  He's  been  mak- 
ing inquiries  for  me,  in  Transylvania.  They  have 
no  standing,  none  whatever.  Their  grandmother, 
dirty  old  de  Noiraud's  mother,  was  a  gypsy!  De 
Folatre  is  the  only  decent  one  of  them;  he's  de- 
scended from  the  old  grandfather's  second  wife,  a 
poor  gentlewoman.  Oh,  Elinor,  Elinor,  think  of 
it!  You  know  what  gypsies  are — vagabonds,  tink- 
ers, thieves!  'I  wouldn't  give  a  tinker's  damn!' 

[233] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


That's  what  the  English  say  when  they  want  to 
express  the  most  worthless  thing  in  the  world. 
And  the  worst  of  it  is" — she  rose  and  came  close 
to  the  girl — "  the  awful  part  of  it  is — he  beguiles 
me  still!" 

She  began  to  cry;  tears  trickled  down  her 
rouged  cheeks,  the  forlorn  tears  of  undignified 
old  age. 

"I  wish  to  God  he  were  dead!"  she  exclaimed 
with  the  futile  fierceness  of  a  weak  nature.  "I 
could  kill  him  with  my  own  hand,"  holding  out 
her  trembling  fingers.  "  But  nothing  will  ever 
happen  to  him,  nothing.  He's  in  love  with  you," 
looking  at  the  young  girl  with  sudden  hatred  in 
her  eyes,  "that's  my  only  comfort.  He'll  take  it 
hard  when  you  turn  him  down.  But  that  mustn't 
be  till  after  the  carnival.  'After  the  ball  is  over! ' 
She  laughed  hysterically.  "After  the  ball  the 
deluge — for  him!"  She  dried  her  eyes.  "Give 
me  that  book,  the  one  open,  face  down.  It's  a 
book  of  reference.  Berthe  got  it  at  the  library 
for  me  this  morning.  Listen!  no,  I  can't  bother 
to  read  it  all,  but  it  says  that  Gypsy  is  a  corrup- 
tion of  Egyptian,  because  a  band  of  them  ap- 
peared in  Europe  in  1418,  commanded  by  Duke 
Michael  of  'Little  Eygpt.'  And  when  they  first 
went  to  France  from  Bohemia  in,  let's  see,  in  1427, 

[234] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


the  Parisians  wouldn't  let  them  enter  the  city. 
Do  you  hear  that?" — very  triumphantly.  "They 
were  thought  too  low  to  have  in  Paris.  Low, 
indeed,  Nelly!  And  all  the  other  nations  called 
them  names.  Listen  to  this — the  Dutch  called 
them  'Heidens'  ('heathens'),  and  the  Germans, 
'Zigeuner'  ('wanderers').  There's  a  lot  more,  but 
that's  enough  to  show  what  they  came  from 
originally  (Original  Sin,  that's  their  beginning), 
and  how  they  have  always  been  regarded  by  re- 
spectable people.  And  here  they  are,  forcing 
themselves  down  the  throats  of  civilized  Christian 
society!  Such  intolerable  insolence!  How  that 
thoroughbred,  Matyas  de  Folatre,  can  care  to  mix 
himself  up  with  such  scum  of  the  earth  puzzles 
me." 

"They  are  his  kith  and  kin,"  Elinor  suggested. 

"Pooh!  "was  the  contemptuous  answer.  "What 
does  that  matter  ?  And  no  one  can  convince  me 
that  that  hairy  old  bear-on-its-hind-legs  uncle  is 
his  uncle,  or  that  hooky-nosed,  staring,  old  black- 
eyed  jade  in  her  red  velvet — "  She  broke  off 
with  a  prolonged  "A-h-h,  that  accounts  for  it, 
Elinor!" 

"For  what?"    Elinor  inquired. 

"Red,"  said  Miss  Cryden,  wagging  her  head 
with  deep  meaning,  "red  velvet,  Nelly.  Not 

[235] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


black,  the  suitable  thing  for  an  old  frump  like 
that" — forgetting  apparently  that  Madame  de 
Noiraud  was  her  contemporary — "oh,  dear  no, 
black  would  never  suit  her,  she  must  have  red  of 
the  reddest!" — crossing  her  legs  and  disclosing  ex- 
tremities clad  in  scarlet  stockings,  and  the  favorite 
red  slippers.  "Proof  positive  of  gypsy  blood,  my 
dear!  In  one  of  those  books  it  says  they  always 
wear  beaver  bonnets  and  scarlet  cloaks!" 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  breathless  but 
triumphant.  Elinor  did  not  point  out  that  Ma- 
dame had  not  as  yet  appeared  in  a  bonnet  of 
beaver,  neither  did  she  remind  her  cousin  of  her 
own  penchant  for  the  despised  hue.  Desirous  of 
changing  the  current  of  Miss  Cryden's  thoughts 
she  spoke  of  the  picture  that  she  still  held. 

It  would  be  better  for  her  not  to  wear  gypsy 
garb,  and  not  to  go  to  the  ball.  This  she  now 
said. 

"What!"  exclaimed  Miss  Cryden  starting  up 
in  surprised  indignation.  "You  don't  wish  to  go 
to  the  ball?  Why  not,  pray?" 

Elinor  explained. 

"In  mourning?  What  bosh,  Elinor!  Why, 
James  Ladoon  died  nearly  four  whole  months 
ago,  and  every  civilized  human  being  knows  that 
four  months  for  an  uncle  or  aunt  is  the  rule. 

[236] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Nonsense,  I  won't  hear  a  word  about  your  not 
going.  Now,  then,  for  the  dress."  She  took  the 
picture  from  Elinor. 

The  photograph  represented  a  slip  of  a  girl,  as 
Elinor  had  said,  leaning,  arms  crossed,  against  a 
wall.  Her  dark  hair  hung  in  short  braids;  from 
her  ears  swung  gold  hoops.  She  wore  a  heavily 
embroidered  blouse  open  at  the  throat,  the  sleeves 
pushed  up,  disclosing  part  of  the  shapely  forearms. 
A  skirt  which  hung  in  heavy  folds  was  almost 
concealed  by  an  embroidered  apron;  around  her 
waist  was  a  braided  belt,  and  about  the  slender 
throat  a  double  band  of  gold  sequins.  Over  her 
breast  hung  twelve  rows  of  coral  beads. 

"You  can  wear  red,"  said  Miss  Cryden,  sur- 
veying Elinor  through  half-shut  eyes,  "and  you 
shall  go  the  whole  figure.  Not  yellow  scarlet,  but 
deep  blood-red;  a  darker  shade  for  the  skirt  than 
for  the  blouse,  of  course,  but  the  blouse  may  have 
to  be  white — wait,  I'll  call  Berthe;  no,  I'll  go  to 
her,  I  mustn't  interrupt  her  work,"  and  she  flut- 
tered into  the  next  room. 

Elinor  went  to  the  window,  opened  it,  and 
stepped  out  upon  the  balcony.  Below  lay  the 
garden,  a  mystery  of  "pleached  alleys  and  bosky 
walks;"  beyond,  rose  the  graceful  tower  of  the 
monastery  and,  far  beneath,  the  myriads  of  red 

[237] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


roofs  of  Ville-de-Plaisir.  The  sun  blazed  down 
upon  all — upon  the  dark-haired  girl  on  the  bal- 
cony; upon  little  Gwendolen  walking  primly  up 
the  main  alley  of  the  garden  with  her  portly  nurse; 
upon  the  city  and  sea;  and  upon  the  distant  olive 
orchards  grandly  clambering  up  the  terraced  hills. 

But  these  things  Elinor  saw  without  seeing. 
Before  her  mental  vision  there  arose  picture  after 
picture  of  her  early  youth.  And  it  was  as  though 
she  were  looking  at  two  young  creatures  equally 
distant  from  her  present  self  when  memory  vividly 
pictured  two  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  playing 
at  being  gypsies  in  the  Long  Island  woods  and 
among  the  Long  Island  dunes. 

In  an  opening  among  pines  a  handsome  lad  of 
thirteen  was  tethering  two  ponies,  while  his  com- 
panion, a  little  lass  of  ten,  busily  spread  a  cloth 
upon  the  scanty  grass — sweet-scented  with  pine 
needles — in  preparation  for  their  gypsy  meal — 
herself  and  Maynard  Bertram. 

Again  a  picture. 

A  sandy  hollow  between  the  dunes;  a  big  black 
pot  swung  over  a  drift-wood  fire;  the  same  boy — 
now  in  velvet  jacket  and  slouch  hat  in  attempt  at 
gypsy  costume — staggering  from  the  beach  with 
an  overlarge  burden  of  gathered  drift-wood. 
Laughing  as  he  let  it  fall  at  the  feet  of  a  little  girl 

[238] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


— whose  black  hair  hung  braided  over  her  shoul- 
ders gypsy  fashion — while  he  cried  merrily: 
"Queen  of  the  Gypsies,  I  bring  tribute!" 

The  girl  sighed  impatiently.  Was  she  never  to 
forget  the  past  ?  Did  people  never  forget  their 
dead  ? — for  Maynard  was  doubly  dead  to  her! 
the  Maynard  of  her  imagination,  and  this  dear 
playfellow  of  her  youth.  It  was  to  her  as  if  May- 
nard's  face  rose  suddenly  before  her.  The  chest- 
nut hair  in  rings  on  the  broad  white  forehead,  the 
gray-blue  eyes,  the  fresh  color  in  the  cheeks,  the 
weak  mouth  and  chin.  The  rhyme  of  the  gypsy 
woman  came  back  to  her: 

"Weak  mouth,  weak  chin, 
And  naught  within." 

Then  she  remembered  the  prophecy  that  May- 
nard must  die  in  the  shadow.  Ah,  well,  he  was 
now  in  the  sunshine!  Perhaps  in  the  sunshine  of 
sunny  France,  happy  among  new  friends  and 
forgetting  the  old.  But  she  wished  him  happi- 
ness, now  and  always. 

She  turned  and  re-entered  the  house. 

A  change  indeed  had  come  into  her  life,  she 
thought,  as  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  books  of  reference 
on  the  table.  She  must  play  gypsy  again,  but  this 
time  with  a  real  gypsy.  And  as  she  meditated 

[239] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


upon  past  and  present,  forgotten  bits  of  her  gypsy 
role  came  fluttering  back.  The  trail  Maynard 
had  made  with  leaves  and  grasses  when  he  wan- 
dered far  afield,  that  she  might  follow  later,  thus 
discovering  his  new  camping  ground;  the  lan- 
guage they  had  invented  to  mystify  occasional 
guests;  the  songs  Alicia  Carme  had  laughingly 
sung  in  good-natured  mockery  of  their  nonsense. 
And  suddenly  the  sought-for  verse  came  back  to 
her. 

When  Miss  Cryden  returned,  bringing  Berthe, 
and  the  two  embarked  upon  an  hour's  discussion 
of  costumes  and  masks  and  dominos,  it  seemed 
to  Elinor  that  she  heard,  as  constant  accompani- 
ment, a  voice  singing  over  and  over  again  the 
verses  of  the  old  ballad : 

"There  were  seven  gypsies  in  a  gang, 

They  were  both  brisk  and  bonny,  O; 
They  came  to  the  Earl  of  Castle's  house, 
And  the  songs  they  sang  were  mony,  O. 

Earl  Castle's  wife  came  down  the  stair, 
.          And  all  her  maids  before  her,  O; 
As  soon  as  they  saw  her  well-fared  face, 
They  cast  the  glamour  o'er  her,  O." 


[240] 


XXI 

"A  half-open  domino  disclosed  a  gypsy's  dress  and  a 
pair  of  slippers  with  buckles,  containing  a  foot  smaller 
than  that  of  Cinderella." 

ELINOR  had  dreaded  meeting  de  Folatre 
after  his  sorry  jest — if  jest  it  was  intended 
to  be.  But  this  she  was  spared,  his  man  of  affairs 
having  summoned  him  to  Paris.  She  learned  of 
his  departure  from  small  Gwendolen,  whom  she 
met  ?t  the  top  of  the  long  staircase,  her  breathless 
but  always  good-natured  nurse  toiling  up  behind 
her. 

"The  one  I  don't  like  is  gone,"  the  child  an- 
nounced, after  politely  bidding  Elinor  good- 
morning.  "I  don't  mind  the  one  people  say  you 
are  going  to  marry  so  much,  but  I  like  Mr.  Dela- 
mere.  Grand  Amy  says  that  she  doesn't  ap- 
prove of  divorce  generally,  but  she  could  find  it  in 
her  heart  to  wish  that  he  would  divorce  his  wife, 
or  his  wife  divorce  him,  so  that  you  and  he ' 

"Oh  hush,  dearie,  do!"  panted  poor  Nanna, 
crimsoning  with  mortification.  "I  don't  know 
what  ails  the  child  of  late,  I'm  sure  I  don't." 

Gwendolen  laughed   impishly  and  holding  up 

1 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


one  small  finger  said,  "I  know,  I  know,  but  I 
won't  tell  you,  Nanna;  I'll  whisper  what  ails  me 
to  Miss  Ladoon!" 

Coming  close  to  Elinor  she  threw  her  arms 
around  her  and  said  in  a  stage  whisper  that  her 
nurse  might  hear:  "It's  the  misfortune  of  the 
Monk  that  ails  me.  It  comes  to  everybody  that 
meets  him  here.  Yes,  bad  luck,  bad  luck,  bad 
luck!" 

And  the  child  began  to  dance,  circling  the  two 
grown  people,  courtesying  now  and  again;  her 
curls  dancing,  too,  her  eyes  shining,  her  mocking 
laugh  of  glee  over  her  childish  mischief  ringing 
out.  She  looked  a  saucy  sprite  enough. 

"Who  told  you  them  old  wives'  tales?"  de- 
manded the  indignant  Nanna,  striving  in  vain  to 
catch  her  wild  nursling.  "Tell  me,  quick  then, 
who  told  you,  Gwenny?" 

But  Gwendolen,  easily  evading  her  stout  pur- 
suer, shook  her  head  until  its  curls  flew  about  like 
a  golden  veil,  shrouding  her  naughty  face.  "I 
won't  tell,"  she  chanted  over  and  over,  "I  won't 
tell — ask  the  monk  of  the  Monk's  Walk!" 

"Of  all  things!"  exclaimed  poor  Nanna,  lift- 
ing up  her  hands  in  horror.  "I'd  just  like  to 
know  who's  been  stuffin'  the  child's  head  with  all 
that  nonsense  and  I'd 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


She  did  not  finish  her  speech,  leaving  her  dire 
vengeance  to  be  imagined. 

Gwendolen's  mood  now  changed.  Suddenly 
demure,  she  came  quickly  up  to  Elinor  and  slipped 
a  small  hand  in  hers. 

"I  hope  you  won't  marry  anybody,"  she  said 
affectionately,  "but  stay  just  as  you  are.  By  and 
by,  you  and  me,  and  Nanna,  and  Grand  Amy, 
can  go  away  from  all  these  people" — waving  her 
free  hand  toward  Miss  Cryden's  door — "and  from 
stupid  here,  and  travel  all  over  the  world.  Let's 
go  now!" — swinging  back  on  Elinor's  hand  and 
looking  up  in  her  friend's  face.  "Let's  go  before 
that  Monsieur  bad-eyed  de  Folatre  comes  back! 
Will  you?  Oh,  please!" 

"Why  do  you  dislike  Monsieur  de  Folatre, 
Gwendolen  ?"  Elinor  asked,  really  wishing  to 
hear  the  child's  opinion. 

Gwendolen  released  her  hand  and  backed  away 
down  the  corridor  toward  her  grandmother's  room. 
As  she  went  she  sang  part  of  her  quaint  couplet: 

"A  false-hearted  lovyer  is  worser  tjian  a  thief. 
For  a  thief  he  can  but  rob  yer,  and  take  away  all 

you  have, 
But  a  false-hearted  lovyer •!  " 

She  paused,  held  up  a  warning  finger,  and 
repeating,  "a  false-hearted  lovyer!"  whirled  into 
her  grandmother's  room  and  closed  the  door. 

[243] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Then  I  hope  you'll  overlook  her  saucy  ways," 
Nanna  pleaded,  "for  she  don't  mean  nothin' 
harmful,  Miss  Ladoon,  and  she  thinks  the  sun 
rises  and  sets  with  you." 

Elinor  assured  the  nurse  of  her  own  liking  for 
the  child,  and  to  make  her  forget  Gwendolen's 
shortcomings  told  her  of  the  masked  ball. 

"I  expect  the  French  gentleman  will  be  back 
for  it,"  said  Nanna  sighing;  "leastways,  I  heard 
him  say  as  much  when  he  was  leavin'  this  morn- 
ing. And  I  wish  the  child  hadn't  heard  them 
stories  of  the  monk,  and  ill-luck  follerin'  them  that 
meets  him  in  Villa  Fernicher  (which  means  phoenix, 
a  kind  of  queer  bird,  so  I'm  told).  Do  you  be- 
lieve it,  Miss  Ladoon  ?"  Elinor  shook  her  head. 
"Nor  me  neither,"  shuddering  as  she  spoke,  then 
squaring  her  shoulders  as  if  righting  against  super- 
stition, "and  I'm  of  opinion  that  nobody's  really 
seen  no  monk;  what  do  you  think,  Miss  La- 
doon?" 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  ball,  Nanna  ?" 

"I  think  it's  fools'  play,"  was  the  solemn  an- 
swer; "still  I  liope  you'll  go  to  it,  Miss  Ladoon. 
Will  Miss  Cryden  go,  do  you  think  ?  Yes  ? 
And  what  will  she  wear,  I  wonder.  But  I'm 
keepin'  you  standing  listenin'  to  my  chatter 
just  as  if  I  knew  no  better!"  And  she  hurried 
away. 

[244] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Miss  Cryden  wore  to  the  ball  what  she  called  a 
Watteau  costume.  A  bouffant  skirt  of  lilac  silk 
looped  high  with  garlands  of  artificial  pink  roses 
over  a  short  beruffled  yellow  silk  petticoat;  and  a 
purple  silk  basque,  brocaded  with  pink  roses, 
over  a  vest  of  yellow  satin.  Her  hair,  dressed 
high  and  powdered,  was  crowned  with  a  jaunty 
little  straw  hat  wreathed  with  roses.  Purple 
stockings,  clocked  with  yellow,  and  lilac  kid 
slippers  with  diamond  buckles  completed  the  gay 
toilet. 

Berthe,  surveying  her  favorite  on  the  evening 
of  the  ball,  pronounced  herself  satisfied.  Elinor — 
her  splendid  hair  hanging  in  thick  braids — did 
look  extremely  well.  She  wore  a  blouse  of  rich 
white  silk  heavily  embroidered  in  dull  gold.  The 
full  skirt  of  finest  cloth,  deep  red  in  color,  reached 
only  to  her  ankles,  disclosing  black  silk  stockings 
and  high-heeled  black  slippers  with  gold  buckles. 
Around  her  throat — as  in  the  picture — was  a 
double  band  of  gold  sequins,  while  over  her  bosom 
hung  the  twelve  rows  of  coral  beads. 

The  ball  was  on  the  evening  before  the  carnival 
and  every  one  in  the  hotel  was  on  the  qui  vive, 
very  eager  to  show  their  own  costumes,  and 
amiably  willing  to  view  those  of  their  neighbors. 
Added  interest  had  been  given  to  the  affair  by  the 

[245] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


permission  of  mine  host  to  invite  friends  stopping 
in  Ville-de-Plaisir. 

Miss  Cryden  had  decreed  that  she  and  Elinor 
must  enter  the  ballroom  separately,  and  each 
should  pass  through,  and  re-enter,  thus  making  a 
pretence  at  the  start  of  being  one  and  the  same 
person.  This  she  declared  would  be  easy,  as  their 
dominos  were  exactly  alike,  of  black-and-white 
striped  silk  edged  with  sequins. 

Berthe  pointed  out  that  their  differently  clad 
feet  would  make  this  impossible,  but  the  elder 
lady  insisted  that  they  should  try,  and  that  they 
must  descend  by  different  staircases. 

"I'll  go  first,  Elinor,  and  you  follow  in  ten 
minutes,"  and  after  careful  scrutiny  of  the  corri- 
dor to  make  sure  that  it  was  empty,  she  darted 
toward  the  main  stairway  and  disappeared. 

Elinor  sat  down,  her  velvet  mask  in  her  hand, 
to  wait  the  prescribed  time.  She  was  alone,  little 
Berthe  having  flitted  away  to  gain  a  vantage 
point  outside  the  ballroom  windows,  where  she 
might  watch  the  gayeties  of  the  evening.  The 
ten  minutes  seemed  in  the  matter  of  thoughts  an 
eternity,  so  many  had  time  to  pass  through  her 
harassed  mind.  Some  there  were  that  came  and 
remained,  refusing  to  be  thrust  aside.  These 
were  thoughts  of  Maynard.  She  longed  for  him, 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


to  see  him,  to  have  speech  with  him;  not  the  May- 
nard  of  the  present  but  the  Maynard  of  her  child- 
hood and  girlhood,  the  Maynard  for  whom  her 
affection  was  as  strong  as  ever.  Her  present  life 
was  as  a  nightmare;  its  unreality  at  times  terri- 
fied her  even  as  the  phantasmagoria  of  an  evil 
dream. 

Her  big  blue  eyes  blurred  suddenly  with  tears. 
She  felt  so  terribly  alone  without  Maynard;  May- 
nard, her  once  constant,  kind  companion,  joyous, 
insouciant,  debonair.  If  he,  the  old  Maynard, 
could  but  be  with  her  at  the  ball! 

She  rose  hastily  and  fastened  on  her  mask.  The 
seemingly  endless  ten  minutes  were  gone  at  last. 

Opening  the  door  cautiously  she  glanced  up 
and  down  the  hall.  Not  a  soul  in  sight!  She 
slipped  hastily  from  the  room  and  through  the  old 
villa  to  its  gayly  painted  staircase.  Down  this 
she  ran  swiftly  and  entered  the  narrow  corridor 
that  traverses  the  length  of  the  villa.  From  the 
distance  came  the  sound  of  waltz  music.  She 
hastened  her  steps  and  in  another  instant  almost 
collided  with  a  tall  dark  figure,  a  monk  in  robe 
and  cowl  of  black. 

Uttering  a  faint  exclamation  of  terror  Elinor 
stood  still,  her  heart  beating  rapidly,  her  breath 
coming  quick  and  fast.  Her  reason  told  her  that 

[247] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


this  was  a  fellow  masquerader,  but  her  fancy 
cried  out:  "The  monk  of  the  Monk's  Walk!" 

Black,  sombre,  awe-inspiring,  the  monk  stood 
silent  before  her,  his  head  bowed,  his  arms  crossed 
upon  his  breast.  The  gleaming  eyes,  mere  points 
of  brightness  seen  through  the  narrow  slits  of  his 
mask,  seemed  fixed  in  contemplation  upon  her 
little  foot,  thrust  well  beyond  the  folds  of  her  dom- 
ino in  its  onward  rush  through  the  corridor.  It 
was  a  saucy  little  foot;  a  dance-loving  little  foot 
if  its  appearance  did  not  belie  it. 

Elinor,  noting  the  direction  of  the  mask's  eyes, 
withdrew  the  small  slipper  from  sight.  The 
monk  sighed  heavily  and,  drawing  aside,  motioned 
her  to  pass.  She  hesitated  for  a  brief  instant. 
Her  superstitious  fears  had  fled,  but  there  was 
something  about  the  black-robed  figure,  an  air  of 
intense  and  hopeless  melancholy,  that  impressed 
her  deeply.  She  wondered  if  this  were  the  monk 
who  had  released  her  from  the  cell  in  the  garden. 
If  so  she  owed  him  thanks.  But  if  not  ?  She 
resolved  to  remain  silent,  fearing  lest  she  might 
reveal  what  she  hoped  might  never  be  known — 
her  imprisonment  in  the  tomb. 

Bowing  slightly  she  went  swiftly  past  and  en- 
tered the  fumoir,  but  when  half  across  the  great 
hall  she  looked  back,  unable  to  shake  off  the  im- 

[248] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


pression  that  the  monk  had  followed  her.  As  she 
paused  the  door  opened  noiselessly  and  the  tall 
dark  figure  glided  in.  An  impulse  to  flee  from 
what  seemed  to  the  excited  girl  the  herald  of  mis- 
fortune seized  her;  she  hastened  on  into  the  din- 
ing-room, the  ball-room  for  the  evening,  forgetful 
of  Miss  Cryden's  orders,  and,  entering  hurriedly, 
again  almost  collided  with  a  monk,  in  robe  and 
cowl  of  black. 

"Two  dominos  of  black  and  white,"  exclaimed 
this  second  monk  in  French.  "A  mystery,  a 
mystery!"  Bowing  low  he  held  out  his  hand, 
inviting  her  to  dance. 

In  relief  over  the  very  evident  fact  that  this 
monk  was  no  monk  but  just  a  gay  masquerader, 
Elinor  accepted  the  proffered  hand  and  in  another 
instant  was  whirling  about  the  room;  in  company 
with  pierrots,  scarlet  and  blue  dominos,  and  gay- 
ly  costumed  figures  who,  scorning  dominos,  trusted 
to  odd  headgear  and  velvet  masks  to  conceal  their 
identity.  As  she  danced  she  looked  about  her 
and,  to  her  surprise,  discovered  Miss  Cryden 
chatting  with  a  third  monk  (the  dress  of  the  clois- 
ter seemed  in  high  favor).  That  this  was  not  the 
monk  of  the  corridor  was  easily  seen.  These 
two  in  the  ballroom  lacked  his  height. 

"Three  monks — and  all  of  the  same  order!" 

[249] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


said  Elinor  when,  the  dance  ending,  her  part- 
ner led  her  to  a  chair  and  seated  himself  beside 
her.  "A  greater  mystery  than  two  dominos  of 
a  kind.  How  is  it  that  three  of  your  number  are 
allowed  liberty  on  the  same  night  ?  Three  cells 
deserted!" 

She  disguised  her  voice  by  affecting  a  marked 
drawl  and  accenting  her  words  peculiarly.  Her 
companion  was  at  no  such  pains,  but  used  the 
disagreeable,  squeaky  falsetto  common  to  most 
maskers. 

"Three  monks?"  he  questioned.  "I  see  only 
two,  fair  mask." 

"There  is  a  third,"  said  Elinor. 

"Not  of  my  fraternity  then,"  was  the  quick 
response.  "I  repudiate  him." 

"Yet  he  is  the  monk,"  said  Elinor  slowly,  "for 
he  has  known  solitude — and  its  sadness." 

"Sadness  comes  to  us  all,"  was  the  masker's 
answer.  He  sighed  affectedly.  "But  solitude  is 
no  necessity.  Why  talk  of  it  when  surrounded  by 
soupirants.  Lady  of  Mystery?" 

"I  am  no  lady,  no  grande  dame,  but  only  a  poor 
gypsy,"  said  Elinor,  drawing  aside  her  domino 
so  that  her  red  skirt  and  a  bit  of  the  richly  em- 
broidered apron  became  visible,  "so  no  fitting 
companion  for  a  holy  monk,  Monsieur  Padre. 
[250] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Unless  it  is  permitted  that  the  gypsy  read  the  lines 
of  the  reverend  palm!" 

Elinor  spoke  thus  in  obedience  to  her  cousin's 
orders.  Her  companion  shrouded  his  hands  in 
the  folds  of  his  robe. 

"My  fortune  is  a  beautiful  one.  I  already  know 
it  and  love  it,"  was  the  answer.  "You  can  tell 
me  nothing  that  I  do  not  know,  fair  stranger — if 
you  are  a  stranger,  which  I  doubt." 

He  caught  her  hand  in  his  and  began  to  feel 
her  gloved  ringers,  searching  for  her  rings  as  one 
who  knew  them.  Elinor  wore  none  that  evening 
so  his  trouble  was  in  vain,  but  in  showing  his 
hands  he  unconsciously  revealed  his  own  identity. 

"Monsieur  de  Noiraud,  you  are  saucy,"  said 
Elinor  rising.  "I  will  go  and  talk  to  my  double 
— and  to  yours." 

"You  know  me!"  exclaimed  Ulaszlo  in  his 
own  voice. 

"Only  your  name,"  said  Elinor,  realizing  the 
impossibility  of  her  ever  fully  understanding  so 
great  a  foreigner  as  this  Transylvanian.  "I  do 
not  know  you,  Monsieur,  and  I  shall  never  know 
you.  Adieu!" 

"One  moment,"  cried  Ulaszlo,  holding  fast  to 
a  fold  of  her  domino.  "I  am,  indeed,  mystified. 
I  understood  that  you — that  you — "  He  hesitated, 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


staring  hard  into  her  eyes.  "They  are  black,"  he 
murmured  to  himself,  "or,  at  least,  they  look  so." 

"By  night  all  cats  are  gray,"  said  Elinor  mock- 
ingly, "and  all  eyes  black,  Monsieur  de  Noiraud. 
But  here  come  our  doubles!" 

Miss  Cryden  was  skipping  across  the  room  on 
the  arm  of  the  third  monk.  Her  lilac  kid  slip- 
pers twinkled  rapidly  in  and  out  beneath  the 
striped  domino.  She  had  the  lightness  of  gait  and 
the  airs  of  an  affected  debutante.  She  greeted 
Elinor  with  a  low-swept  courtesy  and  burst  into 
shrill  speech. 

"I  am  jealous  of  you,  beautiful  stranger,"  she 
cried,  disguising  her  voice  admirably.  "To  see  a 
second  self  is  sufficiently  trying,  but  to  see  a  second 
more  graceful  self  is  enough  to  make  fierce  hatred 
grow  in  one's  heart."  She  laid  a  gloved  hand  upon 
her  breast. 

"You  are  a  lady,"  said  Elinor  humbly.  "I  am 
but  a  gypsy." 

"Poor  wanderer!"  exclaimed  Miss  Cryden.  "I 
no  longer  dislike  you.  But  I  do  not  despise  you — 
although  you  are  nothing  but  a  gypsy,  a  vagrant" 

And  Elinor  knew  that  her  cousin,  too,  had  dis- 
covered Ulaszlo's  identity. 

"Gypsies  always  need  absolution,"  said  the 
third  monk,  pushing  forward.  "If  this  light- 

[252] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


footed  one  will  honor  me  with  a  waltz  I  will  ab- 
solve her  from  all  her  sins." 

Elinor,  obedient  to  a  secret  sign  from  Miss 
Cryden,  accepted  and  was  whirled  away.  In- 
stead of  turning  back  when  the  double  doors,  now 
opened  wide  into  the  fumoir,  were  reached,  her 
partner  danced  through  them  and  did  not  stop 
until  in  the  middle  of  the  lofty  hall.  Then  he 
led  her  to  a  sofa  and  begged  i£or  a  ten  minutes' 
tete-a-tete. 

"I  have  to  beg  your  forgiveness,  Miss  Ladoon," 
he  said.  "I  was  a  madman,  and  behaved  as  such. 
My  visit  to  Paris  has  restored  my  sanity." 

Elinor  recognized  the  voice  of  the  speaker;  it 
was  Matyas  de  Folatre.  She  did  not  answer,  but 
unfurling  her  big  black  fan  began  to  fan  herself 
languidly.  , 

"You  cannot  overlook  my  misconduct?"  Mat- 
yas asked  anxiously.  "Or  perhaps  you  do  not 
know  me.  I  am  de  Folatre." 

"When  the  devil  was  sick,"  quoted  Elinor, 
"the  devil  a  monk  would  be " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  what  you  hint,"  was  the  quick 
reply,  "  I  am  not  well,  not  cured  of  my  folly,  so  I 
would  still  pose  as  a  penitent " 

"I  hint  nothing,"  Elinor  interrupted,  rising. 
"This  is  not  a  confessional  but  a  hotel  sofa,  Mon- 

[253] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


sieur.  Let  us  return  to  the  ballroom.  I  do  hint 
now  that  you  may  feel  regret  if  you  find  that  you 
have  chosen  the  wrong  sceur  grise!" 

"Meaning  that  you  may  not  be  Miss  Ladoon  ?" 
said  de  Folatre  rising,  too,  and  placing  himself  in 
her  path  so  that  she  perforce  stood  still,  blocked  in 
to  right  and  left  by  crowded  chairs  and  tables. 
"But  I  happen  to  be  sure.  Bribery  and  corrup- 
tion, of  course.  Do  not  blame  me,  dear  Miss 
Ladoon.  I  would  not  have  stooped  to  under- 
hand methods.  First,  because  I  should  have 
known  you  without  a  description  of  your  domino, 
and  your " 

"There  is  another  like  mine,"  Elinor  suggested, 
again  interrupting. 

"Yes,  Miss  Cryden's — poor  lady!"  was  the  con- 
temptuous answer. 

"Who  betrayed  us,  Monsieur  de  Folatre?" 

"Not  your  Berthe,  believe  me." 

"Who  bribed  the  telltale?"   Elinor  persisted. 

"Who  ?     Laszlo,  of  course." 

"I  wonder  why?"  Elinor  said,  half  to  her- 
self. 

"Why?"  said  de  Folatre  impatiently.  "What 
a  strange  thing  to  wonder  about!  He  is  almost 
your  accepted  suitor — damn  him.  He  had  to 
know.  He  doesn't  love  you  with  sufficient  pas- 

[254] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


sion  to  divine  you — masked.  While  I — Dieu  de 
Dieu!  It  is  my  misfortune  that  I  know  the  turn 
of  your  head,  of  your  ankle;  the  tap  of  your  im- 
patient little  foot  upon  the  floor.  It  is  my  misery 
that  I  should  recognize  you  should  you  pass  me 
on  the  blackest  night;  the  mere  touch  of  your 
scarf,  the  rustle  of  your  dress,  the " 

"Enough!"  cried  Elinor.  "You  insult  me 
when  you  speak  so  strangely.  Let  me  pass, 
Monsieur,  let  me  pass!" 

But  de  Folatre  did  not  move.  "No,"  he  said 
firmly,  "not  until  you  forgive  me  and  promise 
that  we  shall  at  least  be  friends." 

"Friends!"  echoed  Elinor  with  slow  scorn. 
"You  have  not  the  faintest  conception  of  the  true 
meaning  of  that  grand  word,  Monsieur.  No,  I 
will  never  be  your  friend,  but  I  will  preserve 
appearances  and  treat  you  with  all  civility,  on 
one  condition." 

"Name  it!" 

He  stood  directly  before  her,  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
hers,  and  both  he  and  Elinor  were  too  much  ab- 
sorbed to  notice  who  came  and  went  through  the 
hall.  Neither  saw  that  two  monks  had  entered, 
one  from  the  ballroom,  the  other  from  the  corri- 
dor of  Villa  Fenice. 

"Name  your  condition,"  de  Folatre  repeated. 

[255] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"It  will  probably  be  a  hard  one,  but  anyway" — 
he  laughed  uneasily — "anyway  it  will  be  yours, 
not  Laszlo's." 

"We  must  meet  constantly,  of  course,"  said 
Elinor  quietly,  "and  when  there  are  others  pres- 
ent we  must  converse  like  two  ordinary  acquaint- 
ances." 

"Yes,"  said  de  Folatre  eagerly,  "yes — and 
then  ?" 

"When  you  meet  me  alone,  Monsieur,  I  shall 
beg  you  to  pass  me  by  in  silence.  And  now  I  will 
return  to  the  ballroom." 

"You  shall  not  stir  from  here  till  you  unsay 
what  you  have  said!"  Matyas  spoke  fiercely, 
coming  so  close  to  Elinor  that  she  shrank  back 
against  the  sofa.  "I  will  not  submit  to  being 
thrown  over.  What  do  you  take  me  for,  pray  ? 
A  weak,  puling  boy,  like  my  cousin  ?  You're  mis- 
taken— you  are  mistaken,  Mademoiselle!" 

"I  will  return  to  the  ballroom  if  I  have  to 
clamber  over  the  chairs  and  tables,"  said  the 
girl.  "Surely  even  you  will  not  force  me  to  such 
lengths!" 

Finding  that  he  did  not  draw  back  Elinor 
stepped  resolutely  forward,  counting  upon  his 
training  as  a  gentleman  to  oblige  him  to  give  way. 
But  he  seized  her  hands  and  held  her. 

[256] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Say  you  forgive  me!  Just  one  word,  and  you 
shall  go,"  he  whispered. 

"  Let  me  pass,"  cried  Elinor  indignantly. 
"  Let  me  pass,  Monsieur  !  " 

An  elbow  was  jerked  suddenly  into  de  Folatre's 
breast,  the  elbow  of  the  tall  monk.  The  motion 
was  so  sudden  and  unlocked  for  that  Matyas 
staggered  back,  releasing  Elinor's  hands  to  catch 
at  a  chair  back  and  so  save  himself  from  falling. 
As  he  recovered  himself  Elinor  was  passing  him 
on  the  arm  of  her  deliverer.  He  started  to  follow, 
then  checked  himself;  Ulaszlo  was  hastening  for- 
ward to  meet  the  couple.  Matyas  realized  that 
his  moment  was  over,  but,  furious  at  the  tall 
monk's  onslaught,  he  promised  himself  the  pleas- 
ure of  picking  a  quarrel  with  him  later. 

"Delamere,  of  course,"  he  said  to  himself 
angrily,  forgetting  that  he  was  masked.  "It  was 
probably  arranged  between  them  that  he  should 
interrupt  any  tete-a-tete  with  me."  And  he  flung 
himself  into  a  chair  to  watch  what  Ulaszlo  might 
do.  He  was  already  speaking  to  Elinor. 

Ulaszlo  was  taking  things  for  granted.  "This  is 
my  dance,  fair  gypsy,"  he  said  bowing  low.  "Do 
not  say  that  you  have  forgotten  your  promise!" 

"I  will  give  you  the  next,"  Elinor  said  quickly, 
wishing  to  be  rid  of  him  that  she  might  speak 

[257] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


freely  to  the  monk  on  whose  arm  she  leaned,  and 
whom  she,  also,  believed  to  be  Mr.  Delamere. 
"My  double  will  dance  this  with  you,  perhaps. 
I  have  one  double,  Sir  Monk,"  she  turned  to  her 
companion,  "while  you  have  two;  there  is  a  sec- 
ond black-and-white  striped  domino  here,  have 
you  danced  with  her?" 

The  monk  shook  his  head  in  answer. 

"You  may  venture  to  speak,  Mr.  Delamere," 
Elinor  whispered,  "for  I  know  you.  Who  but 
you  would  have  come  to  my  rescue  so  kindly  ? 
But  you  must  promise  me  not  to  notice  Monsieur 
de  Folatre's  impertinence  further.  I  shall  have  to 
treat  him  with  civility  because  of  my  cousin's 
wishes,  but  he  is  beneath  your  contempt.  I  shall 
simply  try  to  avoid  him  in  future.  You  will  too, 
nest-ce  pas  ?  Promise  me,  my  friend !" 

The  monk  bowed  his  tall  head  and  motioned 
an  invitation  to  dance.  Elinor,  disturbed  by  his 
not  answering,  yet  thinking  it  might  be  but  a 
whim  of  the  moment,  accepted.  Then  she  felt 
sure  she  had  been  right,  that  her  partner  must  be 
Mr.  Delamere.  For  the  tall  monk  knew  how  to 
reverse,  and  this  she  had  herself  taught  the  Eng- 
lishman; none  of  the  foreigners  understanding 
this  purely  American  fashion  in  dancing.  But  she 
had  never  before  noticed  how  perfectly  Mr.  Dela- 

1*58] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


mere's  step  suited  hers.  As  perfectly  as  had 
Maynard's,  she  thought,  with  a  sharp  breath  of 
painful  remembrance.  Then,  although  blaming 
herself  for  the  weakness,  she  gave  herself  up  to 
the  childish  pretence  that  the  past  had  returned, 
that  she  was  again  with  the  Maynard  of  old; 
and  so  danced  on  and  on,  feeling  that  she  could 
never  weary.  As  the  music  ceased  a  tall  red  silk 
domino  came  up  and  bowed. 

"I  know  what  your  mask  conceals,"  he  said  to 
Elinor,  in  a  fat,  rollicking  voice,  "and  I  believe 
the  reverend  gentlemen  who  hover  round  you,  like 
flies  around  the  honeycomb,  know  also.  Trust 
a  monk  for  seeking  beautiful  penitents!  But  it's 
the  turn  of  us  laymen.  As  one  of  them  I  demand 
a  dance,  Mademoiselle." 

"When  you  throw  aside  your  domino  shall  I 
find  a  friend  ?"  Elinor  asked. 

"You'll  find  an  old  friend,  a  very  old  one," 
was  the  answer.  "For  I'm  the  jolly  miller,  who 
lives  on  the  river  Dee."  He  swept  aside  the  folds 
of  his  domino,  disclosing  a  belted  white  jerkin, 
full  white  knee-breeches,  white  stockings  and 
white  shoes.  Then  trolled  out  these  lines,  slightly 
changing  the  original  verse: 

"I  care  for  nobody,  no  not  I, 
And  nobody  cares  for  me!" 

[259] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"You  are  right,  you  are  a  friend,  an  old  friend," 
said  Elinor,  "a  friend  of  my  childhood.  Ah,  you 
are  an  enviable  fellow-creature,  jolly  miller,  since 
you  care  for  no  one !  You  will  never  suffer  heart- 
ache." 

"Enviable,  when  no  one  cares  for  me,  fair  mask  ? 
Do  you  think  that  desirable?"  demanded  the 
miller.  "But  I  understand  you.  Your  misfor- 
tune is  to  be  too  much  cared  for.  To  a  maiden 
whose  heart  is  besieged  as  yours  is,  the  lot  of  a 
hermit  miller  must  seem  delightful.  May  I  have 
the  next  dance  ?" 

The  monk,  with  marked  unwillingness,  drew 
aside,  and  bowed  himself  into  the  background. 

"Who's  he,  Miss  Ladoon  ?"  whispered  the  mil- 
ler, ceasing  to  disguise  his  voice. 

"Mr.  Delamere!"  exclaimed  Elinor  in  surprise. 
"I  thought  the  monk  was  you." 

"The  monk?"  said  Delamere.  "Why,  I  was 
told  that  you  knew  me.  And  everybody  knows 
you!  The  chambermaid  blabbed." 

"How  provoking!"  cried  Elinor  indignantly. 
"It  spoils  the  whole  affair." 

"She  has  made  a  pot  of  money  off  the  cat  that 

she  let  out  of  the  bag,"  said  the  artist.     "I  don't 

know  who  showed  her  the  way,  but  I  do  know 

that  she  went  about  offering  to  tell — for  a  con- 

[260] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


sideration.  Finding  that  I  refused  to  listen  she 
bawled  the  secret  at  me,  and  then  expected  to  be 
rewarded  for  her  treachery.  Here  come  a  crowd 
of  pierrots  after  you.  Let's  go  into  the  fumoir." 

"One  pierrot — a  crowd?"    laughed  Elinor. 

"Where  two's  company,"  was  the  answer. 
"Come — oh,  here  are  two  more  monks!  We 
can't  escape  your  adorers.  I  am  to  give  the 
signal  to  unmask.  I  have  a  mind  to  do  it  now. 
Shall  I?" 

"Yes,"  said  Elinor,  intensely  anxious  to  dis- 
cover the  identity  of  the  monk  who  had  freed  her 
from  de  Folatre,  and  to  whom  she  now  felt  that 
she  had  spoken  very  imprudently. 

"So  be  it,"  said  Delamere,  and  mounting  upon 
a  chair  he  threw  off  his  mask  and  domino,  and 
called  upon  all  the  others  to  do  the  same. 

Confusion  and  laughter  followed;  the  sound  of 
gay  voices,  glad  to  be  free  from  the  necessity  of 
disguise;  the  flashing  of  bright  eyes,  coquettishly 
conscious  of  becoming  fancy  costumes.  De  Fola- 
tre and  de  Noiraud  in  ordinary  evening  dress 
now  hastened  up  to  Elinor.  De  Folatre  looked 
angry  and  excited. 

'The  monk  ?"  he  demanded  brusquely.  "Where 
is  he?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  said  coldly. 

[261] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Who  is  he?"    de  Folatre  spoke  sharply. 

"I  do  not  know,"  Elinor  repeated.  Her  man- 
ner said  that  she  did  not  care. 

"He  shall  unmask,"  Matyas  cried,  "and  answer 
to  me  for  his  insolence." 

"Perhaps  he  may  not  choose  to,"  Elinor  sug- 
gested icily. 

"I  shall  oblige  him  to,"  was  the  angry  reply, 
and  de  Folatre  hurried  away. 

Elinor  looked  keenly  about  the  room.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  she  descried  a  tall  black  shadow 
in  the  narrow  hall  upon  which  the  door  at  the 
further  end  of  the  room  opened;  a  door  used  by 
guests  whose  tables  were  far  distant  from  the 
double  doors  of  entrance.  She  had  a  strong  de- 
sire to  warn  the  mask — who  had  done  her  so  good 
a  turn — of  de  Folatre's  animosity.  If  this  monk 
wished  to  remain  unknown  he  surely  had  the  right 
to  do  so.  But  Ulaszlo  now  demanded  her  at- 
tention. 

"You  look  so  lovely  with  your  beautiful  hair 
hanging  thus!  I  have  a  longing  to  lift  this  braid 
and — do  not  be  angry — just  to  press  my  lips  upon 
it.  Surely  there  would  be  no  harm.  Come  with 
me  to  the  salon,  we  can  be  alone  there;  come! 
You  look  surprised;  you  raise  your  eyebrows  in 
wonder  at  my  boldness.  But  I  am  tired  of  wait- 
[  262] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


ing,  waiting,  for  your  guardian's  letter  which 
does  not  arrive.  I  am  resolved  that  I  will  be- 
come as  an  American,  and  faire  la  four  even  as 
they  do,  without  permission." 

Elinor  smiled  faintly,  but  made  no  answer. 
How  might  she  gain  the  few  moments  that  she 
needed  in  which  to  warn  the  monk  ? 

"Will  you  come  with  me,  then,  to  the  salon?*' 
Ulaszlo  repeated  persuasively.  "Ah,  yes,  please!" 

"First  to  Mademoiselle  Cryden,"  said  Elinor 
with  a  charming  smile,  "to  compliment  the  beauty 
and  taste  of  her  costume,  and  then " 

She  did  not  finish  but,  going  before  him,  led 
the  way  to  where  Miss  Cryden  was  sitting  with 
Monsieur  and  Madame  de  Noiraud.  Leaning 
down,  Elinor  pretended  that  her  cousin's  hat  was 
in  need  of  readjustment,  while  she  whispered: 
"Keep  him  for  a  few  moments  by  you,  please!" 
And  as  poor  Ulaszlo  was  obediently  paying  com- 
pliments, she  slipped  through  the  door  into  the 
little  hall  which  led  to  the  long  corridor  of  the 
villa. 

The  monk,  as  she  had  thought,  was  there.  He 
stood  quite  still,  leaning  against  the  wall,  his  arms 
folded  upon  his  breast,  the  black  mask  hiding  his 
features.  He  started  as  Elinor  came  swiftly  to 
him,  and  the  eyes  behind  the  narrow  slits  of  the 

[263] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


mask  seemed  to  concentrate  their  vision  upon  the 
girl's  lovely,  eager  face. 

"You  were  so  good  to  me  in  the  garden,  when 
you  unfastened  that  dreadful  door  and  set  me 
free,"  she  said  softly  and  quickly;  "and  again  to- 
night you  gave  me  freedom.  I  have  come  to  en- 
able you  to  keep  yours — for  I  am  very  grateful. 
There  are  those  here  who  wish  to  force  you  to 
unmask."  She  glanced  over  her  shoulder.  Mat- 
yas  was  hastening  toward  the  door  behind  her. 
"Oh,  come!"  she  cried.  "This  way,  and  quickly, 
if  you  wish  to  escape." 

Opening  the  door  which  led  into  the  salon  she 
entered,  the  monk  following.  Still  crying  to  him  to 
come  quickly  she  ran  across  the  room  and  opened 
an  opposite  door. 

"A  private  salon,"  she  whispered.  "Its  door 
opens  on  the  long  corridor.  Go  quickly — quickly, 
please!" 

The  hurried  flight,  the  excitement,  and  the 
kindly  desire  to  protect  this  stranger  from  de 
Folatre's  insolence,  had  brought  a  bright  glow 
into  Elinor's  cheeks.  She  looked  supremely  love- 
ly; a  brilliant,  gracious  gypsy,  with  flashing  blue 
eyes.  The  monk  caught  her  hand  and  kissed  it 
fervently.  The  next  instant  she  was  back  in 
the  salon  and  had  closed  the  door  just  in  time. 

[264] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Matyas  was  even  at  that  moment  entering  the 
room. 

"Your  cousin  has  sent  you  to  fetch  me?" 
Elinor  inquired  gayly.  "But  no,  here  he  is  him- 
self!" as  Ulaszlo  appeared  in  the  doorway.  "I 
am  quite  ready,  Monsieur  de  Noiraud,  to  dance, 
to  chat,  or  to  drink  a  glass  of  punch  with  you. 
Monsieur  de  Folatre,  au  revoir!" 

And  taking  the  arm  of  the  delighted  de  Noiraud 
she  went  with  him  from  the  room. 


[265] 


XXII 

"  'Little  hand  clasps  muckle  gold;  or  it  were  not 
worth  the  hold '  ' 

ELINOR  was  out  upon  the  terrace  early  the 
morning  following  the  ball.  She  longed  for 
a  solitary  stroll  through  the  garden  as  a  refresh- 
ment to  both  body  and  mind.  Looking  toward 
the  distant  mountains,  or  at  the  beautiful  outline 
of  the  angel-crowned  tower  against  its  background 
of  sparkling  sea  stretches,  the  saddened  girl  was 
able  to  forget  for  a  time  the  unrealities  of  her 
present  existence,  and  its  ignoble  aims. 

The  gypsy  costume  had  failed  to  produce  the 
effect  desired  by  Miss  Cryden;  the  de  Noirauds 
had  not  only  viewed  it  with  composure,  they  had 
even  admired  it.  Miss  Cryden  was,  in  conse- 
quence, dissatisfied  with  the  wearer.  It  was 
Elinor's  fault,  she  insisted,  that  the  dress  had 
made  no  disagreeable  impression  upon  the  Tran- 
sylvanians,  and  calling  the  girl  into  her  parlor 
after  the  ball  she  had  rated  her  shrewishly  for 
what  she  called  her  limpness  and  lack  of  desire 
to  succeed. 

[266] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"I  shall  give  Laszlo  his  conge  on  Sunday  after- 
noon," she  said  as  she  dismissed  Elinor.  "Until 
then  I  shall  expect  you  to  do  your  best  to  work 
him  up  to  the  infatuation  point.  Good-night!" 

So  in  the  freshness  of  the  morning  Elinor  was 
seeking  comfort  from  the  sweet  friendliness  of  the 
trees  and  flowers,  and  strength  from  the  everlast- 
ing hills.  She  followed  the  grande  allee  down 
the  flight  of  steps  guarded  by  Ceres,  on  between 
the  magnolias  to  the  terrace  beneath  which  rose  the 
great  palm.  There,  leaning  upon  the  balustrade, 
she  became  so  absorbed  in  gazing  at  the  beauty 
of  the  tower,  with  its  angel,  that  she  failed  to 
notice  the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps. 

"I  must  not  disturb  you,"  said  a  caressing 
voice,  Ulaszlo's,  "but  I  may  stand  beside  you 
and  look  at  you,  nest-ce  pas,  chere  Mademoiselle?" 

"Bonjour,  Monsieur"  said  Elinor,  striving  to  be 
civil,  her  heart  sinking  with  disappointment  as 
her  moment  of  freedom  was  thus  stolen.  "You 
are  early,  after  the  ball." 

"I  am  unhappy,"  was  the  low-voiced  reply, 
"and  I  could  not  sleep.  Do  you  ever  lie  awake, 
Mademoiselle?" 

He,  too,  leaned  upon  the  balustrade,  and  he 
gazed  at  Elinor  much  as  she  had  gazed  upon  the 
angel  of  the  tower,  with  the  same  absorption. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Do  I  ever  lie  awake  ?"  Elinor  repeated.  "Oh, 
yes,  Monsieur." 

"But  not  because  you  are  unhappy,  Mademoi- 
selle?" 

"Call  no  man  happy  until  he  is  dead,"  said 
Elinor;  "neither  any  woman." 

"I  could  be  made  happy  all  in  an  instant," 
Ulaszlo  said  persuasively,  "  and  by  you,  ma  bien- 
aimee."  Elinor  remaining  silent,  not  inquiring 
how  she  might  accomplish  this  desired  result,  he 
continued:  "I  am  told  that  American  girls  al- 
ways take  their  own  way,  and  that  their  parents 
and  guardians  always  yield;  if  not  before,  then 
after.  If  you  would  but  consent  to  marry  me 
now,  Mademoiselle — without  waiting  longer  for 
the  guardian's  letter  ?  After,  he  would  give  con- 
sent, nest-ce  pas?" 

"And  if  he  did  not;  if  he  said  that  I  should 
have  no  money,"  said  Elinor,  turning  her  full 
grave  glance  upon  her  handsome  suitor.  "What 
then,  Monsieur  ?  Would  you  care  to  marry  a  girl 
without  fortune  ?  Tell  me  frankly." 

"I  could  not,"  said  Ulaszlo  simply;  "it  is  not 
the  custom  of  my  country.  And  I  should  have  too 
small  a  fortune  for  two.  It  takes  much  to  live  as 
we  should  wish  to.  I  have  enough  for  myself, 
but  not  for  a  wife." 

[268] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"You  would  not  be  willing  to  work — to  sup- 
port a  wife  ?"  Elinor  suggested  quietly. 

"I  hate  work!"  was  the  quick  answer.  "I  will 
never  work,  never!" 

Elinor  remembered  the  gypsy  blood.  "  Do  you 
love  to — "  she  thought  an  instant,  rejecting  the 
word  wander,  "to  travel?" 

Ulaszlo's  long,  dark  eyes  sparkled.  "Yes,"  he 
said  eagerly,  "better  than  anything.  And  you, 
cherie,  you  too  love  it,  yes  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Elinor. 

"Then  come  " — he  held  out  his  long,  supple 
hand — "let  us  go,  together!" 

His  eyes  glowed  with  eagerness,  a  lover's  eager- 
ness. He  smiled  as  he  looked  at  her,  the  tender 
smile  of  a  lover.  His  ardent  dark  face  had  lost 
its  coldness;  he  was  supremely  handsome — and 
winning. 

The  curious  feeling  against  which  she  had  be- 
fore struggled  swept  over  Elinor,  the  uncanny  de- 
sire to  yield  her  will  to  the  wishes  of  this  stran- 
ger, to  allow  herself  to  be  swayed,  dominated  by 
him.  With  the  feeling  came  the  accompanying 
analysis  of  the  sensation,  that  curse  of  the  edu- 
cated mind.  "The  gypsy  glamour  ?"  inquired  her 
reason.  "But  have  they  such  power — and  if  so, 
why?" 

[269] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"You  care  for  me;  your  dreamy  eyes  tell  me 
so,"  whispered  Ulaszlo.  "Let  your  lips  assure 
me,  Nellee.  Speak  cherie  /" 

"Ask  Miss  Cryden,"  murmured  Elinor;  "ask 
my  cousin,  it  is  for  her  to  say." 

The  young  man  frowned,  the  ardor  in  his  face 
died  away,  replaced  by  the  usual  coldness. 

"I  cannot  speak  to  your  cousin — I  cannot,"  he 
said  determinately,  "you  must  not  ask  me  to  do  so." 

"Why,  Monsieur?" 

"I  have  a  reason,"  was  the  cold  answer,  "and  I 
will  not,  Mademoiselle." 

Elinor  wished  to  acquiesce  in  his  decision;  she 
wished  to  wander  on  through  the  garden  with 
him,  and  she  caught  herself  dreamily  hoping  that 
he  might  look  pleasant  again,  and  speak  as  softly 
as  before.  A  little  lizard  whisked  around  the  vase- 
crowned  pillar  of  the  balustrade,  stopped  short, 
affrighted  by  the  unexpected  human  companion- 
ship suddenly  forced  upon  it,  and  lay  still  for  a 
brief  instant,  its  bright  eyes  gleaming  in  the  sun- 
shine. Ulaszlo  stirred  and  it  slipped  away.  He 
touched  Elinor's  arm. 

"Come,  let  us  go  to  the  Monk's  Walk,"  he 
said.  "We  shall  be  quite  alone  there,  and  we  will 
talk  after  your  American  fashion  of  fiances. 
Come,  ma  bien-aimee!" 

[270] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"America,"  said  Elinor  in  English  and  as  if 
speaking  to  herself,  "the  stars  and  stripes — and 
one's  buggy  hitched  to  a  star!"  She  smiled 
strangely. 

"I  do  not  comprehend,"  murmured  Ulaszlo 
humbly.  "And  I  am  sorry,  but  to-day  I  have  not 
your  language.  Please  say  it  in  French  that  I  may 
understand." 

Elinor  looked  at  him  for  a  long  moment.  No, 
he  did  not  understand,  nor  would  he,  could  he, 
ever  hope  to.  Hope  to  ?  Why,  he  would  not 
even  care  to.  He  belonged  to  the  Old  World  even 
as  the  lizard  belonged  to  the  old  garden.  She 
felt  awake,  wide  awake,  uncomfortably  awake, 
but  what  she  said  was  that  she  was  too  sleepy 
after  the  ball  to  be  an  agreeable  companion,  and 
she  insisted  upon  returning  to  the  house. 

"The  carnival  to-night,  Monsieur!  Dear  me, 
I  must  try  to  wake  fully  for  the  carnival." 


XXIII 

[HE.]  " after  this  welcome  the  worst; 

Blest  for  one  hour  by  your  kisses,  let  me  be  evermore 

curs'd. 
Talk  not  of  ties  to  me  reckless,  here  every  tie  I  discard"; 

ELINOR  was  disappointed  in  the  carnival. 
She  thought  it  tawdry,  vulgar  even.  The 
entrance  of  the  king  of  the  carnival  (a  gigantic 
figure  representing  Uncle  Sam  in  an  aeroplane), 
with  the  floats  that  followed  him  in  procession, 
failed  to  please  her.  Miss  Cryden  had  joined 
with  the  de  Noirauds  in  hiring  a  brake  for  the 
evening;  and  old  Monsieur  and  Madame  were  as 
delighted  as  children  with  the  sights  and  sounds, 
with  the  motley  crowd,  the  electric  lights — in 
short,  with  the  carnival.  The  presence  of  their 
elders  acted  as  a  damper  upon  the  spirits  of  Mat- 
yas  and  Ulaszlo,  rendering  them  more  agreeable 
to  Elinor,  who  desired  nothing  so  much  as  to  be 
left  to  herself.  She  was  sorry  to  hear  from  Miss 
Cryden  upon  their  return  to  the  hotel  that  a  dif- 
ferent arrangement  had  been  made  for  their  next 
venture. 

[272] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"We  are  to  have  a  carriage  that  will  hold  just 
four,"  said  Miss  Cryden,  sighing  with  relief  that 
the  evening  was  over,  "and  you  and  I  will  each 
have  an  escort.  I  want  to  get  out  and  mix  with 
the  maskers.  We  must  have  new  dominos,  and 
try  to  look  like  the  crowd.  Red  satin  edged  with 
gold  sequins.  I  will  speak  to  Berthe." 

"Winifred,  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you,"  Elinor 
began  uncomfortably,  for  she  was  no  telltale. 
"I  think  you  ought  to  know  about — about — " 
She  hesitated,  fearful  of  saying  too  much. 

"About  what? — or  whom?"  demanded  Miss 
Cryden  sharply.  "Do  speak  out." 

"About  Monsieur  de  Folatre,"  said  Elinor  des- 
perately. "I  think  I  must  beg  you  not  to  expect 
me  to  see  much  of  him  in  future.  He  has  been  in- 
sulting, outrageous,  really  unendurable,  Winifred." 

Miss  Cryden  surveyed  her  young  cousin  with 
cold  contempt.  "I  suppose  you  think  that  he  is 
insulting  because  he  amuses  himself  making  love 
to  you.  Really,  Elinor,  I  must  beg  you  not  to  be 
too  ridiculous!  Prim,  old-fashioned  ideas  like 
yours  are  out  of  date  in  America,  and  they  are 
quite  out  of  place  here.  I  suppose  what  you 
mean  is,  in  plain  English,  that  you  want  Laszlo 
to  be  your  escort  when  we  leave  the  carriage  ? 
Very  well,  I  am  willing.  Goodness  knows,"  she 

[273] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


laughed  unpleasantly,  "/  don't  want  him!  But 
I  begin  to  doubt  if  he  wants  you/* 

"Possibly  not,"  said  Elinor,  much  relieved  to 
hear  that  she  was  to  escape  de  Folatre,  "but 
what  he  wants  does  not  matter  much,  after  all." 

"It  matters  everything,  just  everything,"  cried 
Miss  Cryden  indignantly,  "and  I  think  you  are, 
without  exception,  the  most  ungrateful  girl  in 
the  world!"  And  she  began  a  tirade  against 
Elinor's  behavior,  past,  present,  and  to  come, 
that  lasted  long. 

It  was  with  a  dull  feeling,  consequently,  as  of 
going  to  some  wearisome  but  necessary  social 
function  that  Elinor,  clad  in  her  scarlet  domino 
a-tinkle  with  sequins,  seated  herself  in  the  car- 
riage beside  Miss  Cryden,  and  opposite  to  de  Fol- 
atre and  de  Noiraud.  The  two  men  were,  also, 
in  red  dominos.  It  was  late,  already  after  eleven, 
when  they  started. 

"We  look  like  a  nice  little  party  of  devils," 
Miss  Cryden  exclaimed  delightedly  as  the  car- 
riage rolled  down  the  avenue,  "and  I'm  devilishly 
fond  of  deviltry,  though  I've  never  been  a  devil  of 
a  girl!" 

She  giggled  foolishly;  she  was  in  one  of  her  sil- 
liest moods.  Her  mirth  jarred  upon  Elinor,  who 
felt  weary  and  sad. 

[274] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


The  dark  line  of  cypresses,  the  cypresses  of  the 
Monk's  Walk,  loomed  high  above  them,  their 
velvety  spires  pointing  toward  the  stars.  At  the 
side  of  Villa  Fenice,  where  the  chapel  ends  the 
terrace,  the  black  tree  line  is  broken  for  a  space. 
Looking  up  from  the  avenue  one  sees  the  white 
wall  of  the  villa  and  the  stretch  of  white  balus- 
trade which  there  edges  the  walk,  before  the  trees 
again  stand  shoulder  to  shoulder.  Elinor,  gazing 
skyward,  was  startled  to  see  a  figure  leaning  upon 
the  balustrade,  a  monk  in  robe  and  cowl  of  black. 

She  looked  away  hastily,  hoping  that  de  Fola- 
tre's  glance  had  not  followed  hers,  but  she  could 
not  be  sure.  Was  there  something  ominous  in  the 
sight  of  that  lonely  black  figure  ?  Was  evil  com- 
ing— soon  ?  And  who  was  he,  this  monk  who, 
choosing  to  personate  the  dead,  haunted  the  lovely 
gardens  of  the  villa  and  the  black  shadows  of  the 
Monk's  Walk  ?  Why  had  he  befriended  her  ? 

Then  a  new  idea  flashed  through  her  mind. 
He  was  not  wishing  to  befriend  her,  perhaps,  but 
to  checkmate  de  Folatre.  Such  a  man  as  Matyas 
de  Folatre  must  have  many  enemies.  Perhaps 
the  monk  was  one,  and  while  dogging  the  French- 
man's footsteps  for  his  own  purposes  was  glad  to 
do  him  an  ill  turn  by  aiding  those  he  was  tor- 
menting. 

[275] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


These  thoughts  were  still  troubling  Elinor  when 
the  carriage  entered  the  great  square  of  Ville-de- 
Plaisir  where  all  its  world  was  holding  revel. 
Around  the  outer  edges  of  the  Place  the  carnages 
and  brakes  circled  slowly.  While  in  the  centre 
the  maskers  danced,  or  wandered,  laughing  and 
exchanging  jests,  pelting  one  another  with  con- 
fetti. After  making  the  circuit  twice  or  thrice, 
Miss  Cryden  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  into 
a  quiet  side  street,  where  she  told  him  to  wait 
for  them. 

"I  want  to  walk  about  a  little,"  she  said,  in- 
viting the  party  to  alight.  "It  will  be  amusing 
to  mingle  with  the  crowd  afoot.  Give  me  your 
arm,  please,  Monsieur  de  Noiraud.  I  shall  ask 
you,  Monsieur  de  Folatre,  to  look  after  my  cousin. 
You  two  will  walk  directly  in  front  of  us,  please. 
I  sha'n't  take  my  eyes  off  you  for  a  single  instant,  I 
warn  you,  so  see  that  you  behave  discreetly.  No 
idle  badinage  with  unknown  dominos,  no  non- 
sense allowed!" 

It  was  after  this  peculiar  fashion  that  she  kept 
her  promise  to  Elinor. 

The  girl  glanced  back  over  her  shoulder  several 
times  to  make  sure  that  Miss  Cryden  and  Ulaszlo 
were  close  behind,  and  finding  them  always  fol- 
lowing, and  realizing  that  Ulaszlo  would  not  wish 

[276] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


to  lose  sight  of  her,  she  finally  gave  herself  up  to 
the  interest  of  the  moment. 

Some  among  the  maskers  they  met  were  amus- 
ing. One  man,  carrying  a  huge  doll  dressed  as  a 
baby,  and  holding  a  lighted  candle  in  his  hand, 
rushed  up  to  them,  paused,  and,  lifting  the  candle 
high,  scanned  each  mask  intently  before  he  hur- 
ried on.  Upon  his  back  was  a  placard  on  which 
was  printed  in  large  letters: 

MY  WIFE  HAS  GONE  TO  THE  CAR- 
NIVAL AND   I   AM   LOOKING 
FOR  HER! 

Matyas  was  very  silent,  his  usual  easy  flow  of 
small  talk  seemed  to  have  failed  him.  This  was 
agreeable  to  Elinor,  and  she  almost  forgot  upon 
whose  arm  she  leaned,  and  who  was  guiding  her 
through  the  crowd.  By  and  by  Miss  Cryden 
called  to  him  to  lead  the  way  through  the  less 
frequented  streets,  and  then  to  return  to  the  square. 

"We  will  have  one  dance  there,"  she  cried  gayly, 
"and  after  that  go  home.  But  I  must  rest  my 
eyes  and  ears  for  a  moment  first." 

They  were  nearing  a  crowded  thoroughfare  as 
she  spoke.  The  street  was  filled  with  vehicles  of 
every  description. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"This  way — quickly!"  said  Matyas,  urging  Eli- 
nor forward  through  the  crush.  They  reached 
the  other  side  in  safety.  "Don't  stop,  please!" 
he  cried,  hurrying  her  along.  "Come — Laszlo! 
Hurry,  mon  cousin!" 

He  and  Elinor  threaded  the  crowd  at  a  quick 
step,  and  they  were  some  blocks  from  the  difficult 
crossing  before  he  relaxed  his  pace.  Because  of 
his  calling  to  Ulaszlo,  Elinor  had  taken  it  for 
granted  that  Miss  Cryden  and  de  Noiraud  were 
close  behind,  and  it  was  not  until  they  had  gone 
some  distance  along  a  quiet  side  street  that  she 
became  aware  that  she  and  de  Folatre  were  alone. 
There  was  a  silence,  a  lack  of  following  footsteps. 
She  stopped  short,  and  would  have  withdrawn 
her  hand  from  her  companion's  arm,  but  he  held 
it  close.  Startled,  she  turned  and  looked  behind 
her.  The  street  was  empty. 

"Where  are  the  others?"  she  asked  anxiously. 
"We  must  go  back  and  look  for  them — come, 
Monsieur  de  Folatre!" 

He  did  not  answer,  but  tried  to  walk  forward 
as  though  she  had  not  spoken.  Elinor  resisted, 
her  distrust  of  the  man  sweeping  across  her  with 
renewed  force. 

"I  shall  not  go  on  until  my  cousin  comes, 
Monsieur,"  she  said  quietly,  "and  we  might  better 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


turn  back  now  and  meet  them.  I  don't  wish  to 
wait  here." 

"No,  no,"  said  Matyas  hurriedly,  "you  must 
not  go  back.  You  will  be  sure  to  lose  them  that 
way.  It  will  be  far  better  to  return  to  the  carriage. 
I  know  just  where  it  is.  We  can  wait  for  them 
there." 

Elinor  stood  still,  thinking.  She  did  not  know 
the  streets  of  the  great  town,  and  she  realized  that 
it  would  not  do  for  her  to  attempt  to  find  the 
square  where  the  dancing  was  going  on.  To  re- 
turn as  they  had  come  was  equally  impossible. 
De  Folatre  had  been  guide,  she  had  but  followed, 
amusing  herself  with  the  sights  of  the  carnival, 
quite  heedless  of  landmarks.  She  decided  to  wait 
where  she  was  long  enough  to  give  the  others 
more  than  time  to  come  up.  Then,  if  they  failed 
her,  she  must  trust  de  Folatre. 

"Have  you  your  watch,  Monsieur?" 

"No,"  he  replied,  "I  left  it  at  home  because  of 
the  crowd." 

"Very  wise,"  said  Elinor,  forcing  herself  to 
speak  as  pleasantly  as  though  they  still  were 
friends,  "but  wisdom  is  trying  sometimes.  I 
should  so  much  like  to  time  the  others;  give  them, 
say,  ten  minutes,  and  then — give  them  up!  We 
might  count,  taking  turns.  Each  count  sixty  five 

[279] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


times.  I'll  begin."  And  laughingly,  as  though 
enjoying  her  own  nonsense,  she  commenced: 
"One,  two,  three,"  and  counted  steadily  up  to 
twenty-one.  Then  Matyas  stopped  her.  He  drew 
out  his  watch. 

"Yes,  I  fibbed,"  he  said,  as  he  took  the  watch 
from  its  chain  and  placed  it  in  her  hand.  "I 
can't  see  your  face  (I  wish  you  could  take  off 
your  mask),  but  I  can  imagine  your  expression 
of  horror." 

"I  can't  see  yours,  yet  I  should  advise  your 
keeping  your  mask  on,"  said  Elinor  carelessly. 
"  Masks  are  necessary  evils — nasty  suffocating 
things — at  carnivals,  and  masquerades." 

"And  through  life?"  de  Folatre  added  ques- 
tioningly. 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Elinor  sighing.  "But 
they  are  very  tiresome.  How  late  it  is!  Past 
twelve!" 

"My  watch  is  fast,"  said  Matyas  quickly, 
"twenty  minutes  fast.  But  perhaps  you  don't 
believe  me.  Another  fib  you  think?" 

"It  does  not  matter,"  Elinor  assured  him,  "I 
asked  for  it  only  to  time  the  others,  you  know." 

"Your  fib,"  was  the  quick  retort. 

"Qui  satt,  Monsieur?" 

"Not  I,"  said  de  Folatre  gloomily,  "I  know 
[280] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


but  one  thing — that  I  am,  that  I  have  always  been, 
that  I  shall  always  continue  to  be,  a  fool." 

"Better  a  fool  than  a  knave,  any  day,"  said 
Elinor,  her  eyes  upon  the  watch. 

"I  know  you  think  me  the  latter,"  was  the 
morose  reply. 

"No  matter  what  I  think,"  said  Elinor,  "and 
especially  now." 

"Why  now?"   Matyas  inquired. 

"Because  my  whole  mind  is  concentrated  upon 
wondering  what  has  become  of  my  cousin,  and 
yours,  Monsieur.  The  ten  minutes  have  almost 
crawled  away.  How  unnatural  electric  light 
makes  everything  look!  Even  the  kind,  round 
face  of  your  handsome  watch  has  a  haggard  ex- 
pression. Are  we  very  far  from  the  Place?" 

"Are  the  ten  minutes  up,  Mademoiselle?" 

"All  but  one,  Monsieur." 

"Then  let  us  go  to  the  carriage,  that  is  not 
far  distant,"  he  said  earnestly. 

Elinor  scanned  the  street  carefully.  But  one 
person  had  passed  through  it  since  they  had 
paused  there,  and  that  was  a  forlorn  old  woman 
returning  wearily  from  a  fete  that  she  was  too 
elderly  to  enjoy.  There  was  no  use  waiting  longer, 
the  girl  thought,  and,  after  all,  what  could  de 
Folatre  do  save  guide  her  to  the  carriage  ?  He 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


had  not  been  disagreeable  after  his  usual  fashion 
thus  far,  so  why  should  she  suspect  him  ?  He 
might  choose  to  annoy  her  when  they  reached  the 
carriage,  but  surely  the  others  would  join  them 
there  very  soon.  Laszlo  would  be  in  no  mood  to 
dance  long  with  Miss  Cryden. 

"I  am  ready,"  she  said,  returning  the  watch. 
"Which  way  do  we  go  ?" 

"Along  this  street  a  little  farther,"  said  Matyas, 
taking  her  hand  and  drawing  it  through  his  arm, 
"then  we  turn,  and  then " 

He  walked  on  rapidly,  still  holding  her  hand. 
She  pretended  not  to  notice  this.  Let  them  but 
reach  the  carriage  peaceably;  trifles  did  not  mat- 
ter at  such  an  uncanny  moment.  It  was  very 
like  a  nightmare,  this  wandering  alone  with  de 
Folatre  through  the  streets  of  Ville-de-Plaisir  after 
midnight.  She  tried  to  keep  her  composure. 
She  strove  earnestly  to  take  the  unpleasant  hap- 
pening as  a  commonplace  incident,  but  despite 
her  efforts  her  throat  and  lips  grew  hot  and  dry 
and  her  heart  throbbed  painfully. 

They  walked  for  some  distance  and,  so  it  seemed 
to  Elinor,  turned  backward  upon  their  steps  in- 
stead of  going  always  onward.  It  was  as  if  her 
guide  were  twisting  and  turning,  doubling  up  one 
block  and  down  the  next,  purposely  confusing  her 

[282] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


more  and  more.  At  last  he  came  to  a  stand-still 
before  a  small  family  hotel. 

"I  have  lost  my  way,"  he  said  in  subdued 
tones.  "We  will  go  in  here  and  you  can  rest." 
Still  holding  her  hand  closely  he  would  have  ad- 
vanced to  enter. 

"No,"  said  Elinor,  drawing  back  and  striving 
to  release  her  hand  from  his  grasp,  "I  prefer  not. 
I  am  not  tired.  You  can  go  in  and  inquire  the 
way.  Perhaps  you  can  find  some  one  to  guide  us. 
I  will  wait  here." 

"I  dare  not  leave  you  alone,"  said  de  Folatre 
gently.  "I  must  beg  you  to  come  with  me.  It 
will  only  be  for  a  moment." 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  Elinor  replied.  "Please 
let  me  wait  here,  Monsieur.  And  please  let  go  of 
my  hand;  you  hurt  me." 

Again  she  made  an  effort  to  free  herself,  but 
instead  of  releasing  her  de  Folatre  passed  his  arm 
around  her  and  urged  her  forcibly  toward  the 
door  of  the  hotel.  Unwilling  to  struggle  Elinor 
found  herself  the  next  instant  close  to  the  glass  door 
of  entrance,  her  heart  beating  fast,  the  terror  of 
she  knew  not  what  giving  her  a  sensation  of  weak- 
ness that  added  to  her  fears. 

"There  must  be  a  night  porter,"  said  Matyas. 


"I  will  ring. 


1*83] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


To  do  so  he  let  go  her  hand,  but  she  caught  his 
with  both  her  own  and  held  it  fast. 

"No,"  she  cried  vehemently,  stamping  her  foot  in 
sudden  passion.  "No,  you  shall  not.  I  have  said 
I  would  not  enter  and  I  will  not.  I  do  not  believe 
that  you  have  lost  your  way,  I  believe — I  believe 
— oh,  God  knows  what  I  believe,  but  I  insist 
upon  your  taking  me  to  the  carriage  at  once!" 

She  ceased  speaking,  panting,  strangely  out  of 
breath,  and  frightened  by  her  own  vehemence, 
her  own  words.  It  was  her  heart  that  had  spoken, 
not  her  clever  brain;  and  feeling  that  she  had 
made  a  terrible  mistake  in  letting  de  Folatre 
know  of  her  lack  of  faith,  she  lost  her  grip  upon 
herself  for  a  moment  and  the  tears  came. 

Matyas  laughed. 

"I  mean  to  have  an  hour  alone  with  you  and  I 
will,"  he  said  harshly.  "I  did  not  plan  to  get 
lost  with  you,  but  the  devil  is  kind  to  me  some- 
times. You  are  not  the  innocent  girl  you  pretend 
to  be,  but  a  clever,  unscrupulous  woman,  quite  as 
experienced  as  I  am  myself.  I  am  fool  enough  to 
be  crazily  in  love  with  you — as  my  present  be- 
havior proves.  I  will  try  to  make  my  wife  divorce 
me,  and  marry  you,  if  that  will  satisfy  your  present 
scruples,  but  I  must  have  an  hour,  just  an  hour, 
Elinor!" 

[284] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"You  are  a  coward,"  said  Elinor  coldly,  her 
tears  dried,  her  moment  of  weakness  gone.  She 
was  at  bay,  and  quite  as  reckless  of  consequences 
as  the  man  beside  her. 

"I  don't  care  what  I  am,"  was  the  fierce  answer, 
"so  long  as  I  have  my  hour.  Come!"  Again 
he  drew  her  toward  the  door. 

"I  will  scream  until  I  arouse  the  neighbor- 
hood," cried  Elinor,  "and  I  will  give  your  name 
and  my  own  and  ask  for  help." 

"You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Matyas. 
"You  fear  disgrace — and  I  do  not.  Why  do  you 
behave  so  foolishly  ?  I  am  a  handsomer,  a  better 
man  than  the  Englishman.  Why  do  you  accept 
Delamere  and  turn  me  down  ?" 

"How  dare  you  insult  me  with  such  dread- 
ful thoughts!"  said  Elinor  striving  to  gain  time 
while  she  listened  eagerly,  praying  for  the  sound 
of  approaching  footsteps.  "Mr.  Delamere  is 
my  kind  friend,  and  you  know  it — nothing 
more." 

"I  should  respect  you  more  if  you  confessed 
straight  out  that  you  were  his  mistress,"  was  de 
Folatre's  insolent  comment.  "Your  pretence  is 
contemptible,  and  I  wonder  at  myself  for  my  in- 
fatuation. I  have  no  doubt  that  the  masquerad- 
ing monk  is  another  of  your  lovers.  Where  so 

[285] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


many  are  successful  there  is  no  reason  that  I  should 
sue  for  favor  in  vain." 

He  made  a  sudden  rush  forward  and  rang  the 
bell. 

"I  shall  say  that  you  are  my  wife,  that  you  are 
hysterical  from  fatigue,  and  angry  with  me  for 
bringing  you  here."  Then,  with  a  sudden  change 
of  manner,  he  caught  her  close  and  whispered  ten- 
derly: "But  for  God's  sake,  my  darling,  and  for 
your  own,  be  reasonable,  and  do  not  force  me  to 
such  ruffianly  lengths.  I'm  not  a  bad  fellow,  and 
I  do  love  you  so!  I  swear  I'll  try  to  get  the  right 
to  marry  you.  I  swear  it,  swear  it,  Elinor!" 

No  one  came  in  answer  to  the  bell.  Matyas  rang 
again,  and  yet  again,  cursing  the  porter  for  being 
asleep.  Elinor  had  ceased  struggling.  She  had 
tried  to  remove  her  mask  but  Matyas  prevented 
her,  asking  her  if  she  were  crazy  to  run  the  risk  of 
being  recognized.  She  had  decided  upon  a  plan 
of  action.  She  would  tell  who  they  both  were  and 
create  so  great  a  disturbance  that  the  hotel  man- 
ager would  be  obliged  to  interfere.  And  after  ? 
After,  she  must  face  Miss  Cryden,  and  her  little 
world. 

"We  can't  stand  waiting  here  forever,"  said 
Matyas  angrily.  "There's  an  hotel  just  across  the 
way.  It's  not  respectable — but  it  will  have  to  do." 

[286] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


She  went  with  him  docilely,  so  quietly,  indeed, 
that  he  believed  that  she  had  yielded.  As  they 
reached  the  middle  of  the  street  Elinor,  still  strain- 
ing her  ears  for  the  sound  she  so  longed  for,  heard 
gay  voices  nearing  the  end  of  the  block.  The  next 
instant  a  party  of  merrymakers  had  turned  the 
corner. 

Deceived  by  Elinor's  pretence  at  acquiescence, 
and  absorbed  in  finding  the  seclusion  he  desired, 
Matyas  though  still  holding  her  hand  had  grown 
less  watchful,  and  of  this  she  now  took  quick  ad- 
vantage. One  desperate  jerk  and  she  was  free, 
and  speeding  along  the  street  with  a  swiftness 
born  of  fear.  De  Folatre  gave  instant  chase,  but 
though  fleet  of  foot  he  was  too  late,  she  had  gained 
her  purpose  and  cried  halt  to  the  maskers  before 
he  could  reach  her. 

These  were  a  party  of  six  men,  pierrots  and 
red  dominos,  walking  arm  in  arm,  now  singing 
snatches  of  gay  songs,  now  bursting  into  wild 
laughter  over  some  rollicking  jest.  A  jolly  crowd 
enough,  but  not  a  group  which  a  girl  would  will- 
ingly join  at  any  hour,  and  most  certainly  not  after 
midnight.  "Needs  must  when  Old  Nick  drives," 
says  the  proverb,  and  Elinor  was  desperate. 

The  gay  party  stopped  instantly  at  her  sum- 
mons and  stood  at  attention.  It  was  evident  that 

[*»?] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


they  expected  some  joyous  adventure,  a  new,  yet 
old,  carnival  happening.  Elinor's  voice  unde- 
ceived them;  there  was  in  it  the  thrill  of  heart- 
break, and  she  spoke  in  English. 

"Help  me,  please,"  she  cried  breathlessly. 
"Protect  me  from — "  she  glanced  back  in  terror 
at  her  swiftly  advancing  pursuer.  "Ah,  he  is  al- 
most here!" 

Then  she  remembered  that  she  was  in  France, 
and  piteously  asked  again  for  aid,  this  time  in 
French,  but  even  as  she  spoke  de  Folatre  came  up. 

"My  wife,  gentlemen,"  he  said  quickly  in 
French.  "She  wished  to  give  me  a  taste  of  fright 
— she  has  succeeded."  He  forced  a  laugh,  and  put 
out  his  hand  to  grasp  Elinor's. 

As  the  terrified  girl  shrank  away  from  him  a 
fat  pierrot  dexterously  caught  the  outstretched 
hand — and  shook  it  warmly. 

"Dear  old  man!"  he  exclaimed  in  a  shrill  fal- 
setto. "Proud  to  see  that  you  ree-cogg-nize  me 
despite  my  humble  habiliments." 

"You  are  English,"  cried  Elinor.  "Oh,  thank 
God !  Please  hold  him  until  I  can  get  well  away." 

She  turned  to  recommence  her  flight,  but  one 
of  the  red  dominos  stopped  her. 

"Wait  a  bit,"  he  said  gravely.  "Tell  me 
what's  the  matter.  Has  the  cad  been  insulting 

[288] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


you  ?  Don't  be  afraid  to  speak  out.  I  have  girls 
of  my  own." 

"We  lost  our  way,"  said  Elinor,  not  knowing 
how  to  explain  her  unpleasant  situation  to  the 
kindly  stranger.  "I  thought  my  chaperon  was 
just  behind  me,  but  the  crowd  had  separated  us. 
This  man  is  supposed  to  be  our  friend,  and  a  gen- 
tleman, but — but — "  she  hesitated,  "I  think  he 
has  gone  mad.  Please  let  me  go!" 

"Do  you  know  the  way?  I  thought  you  said 
you'd  lost  it?"  the  domino  inquired  suspiciously. 

"No,  I  don't  know  it,"  said  Elinor,  her  voice 
breaking  into  sobs,  "but  if  I  can  only  get  away 
from  him,  nothing  else  matters." 

"Boys,"  cried  the  red  domino  cheerfully,  "the 
French  gentleman  must  take  my  place  for  the 
present.  Any  one  who  can  sprint  as  well  as  he 
can  must  be  a  true  sport.  Keep  him  with  you  for 
an  hour  anyway,  and  prove  his  mettle.  I  will  es- 
cort his  wife  ( ?)  home.  You  need  be  under  no 
anxiety,  Monsieur,  I  am  a  steady  old  paterfamilias, 
although  I  am  running  about  dressed  up  like  a 
fool  to-night.  But  perhaps  Monsieur  doesn't  un- 
derstand English  very  well?" 

"Yes,  he  does,"  cried  the  fat  pierrot,  dropping 
his  falsetto  and  speaking  in  a  pleasant,  rich  voice. 
"  He  damns  most  beautiful.  His  accent  is  perfect." 

[289] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


The  red  domino  laughed.  "I'll  join  you  later," 
he  said,  "just  as  soon  as  I've  seen  this  little  Eng- 
lish girl  safely  home.  Come  along,  my  child!" 

"Don't  trust  yourself  to  that  stranger,  Elinor," 
cried  de  Folatre,  struggling  fiercely  to  rid  himself 
of  his  jovial  jailers.  "He's  probably  some  old 
pickpocket,  or  cutthroat.  Let  me  go,  you  damned 
ruffians,  let  me  go!" 

"Ah,  leave  me  not,  I  love  but  thee!"  war- 
bled the  fat  pierrot  in  a  rich  barytone. 

The  men  made  a  circle  around  the  furious  Mat- 
yas,  dancing  and  moving  onward  as  they  ringed 
about  him.  Strive  as  he  might  to  break  through 
they  held  him  fast,  and  as  Elinor  glanced  back  to 
see  if  he  were  really  imprisoned  they  began  to 
sing  in  chorus: 

"Ah,  leave  us  not,  we  love  but  thee, 
Blessing  or  curse  whiche'er  thou  be, 
Oh,  be  as  thou  hast  been  to  we, 
Forever  and  forever!" 

Elinor's  protector  did  not  seek  to  learn  her 
name  or  break  through  her  reserve  in  any  way. 
They  soon  reached  the  crowded  avenues,  and 
presently  the  red  domino  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  relief,  and  paused  beside  an  empty  fiacre  stand- 
ing near  the  sidewalk.  He  spoke  to  the  driver  in 
low  tones,  then  turned  to  Elinor. 
[290] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"I  know  this  man,"  he  said,  "he  is  an  honest, 
perfectly  reliable  fellow.  I  shall  put  you  in  his 
charge,  you  can  tell  him  your  address,  and  he  will 
take  you  home.  You  can  trust  him,  I  give  you 
my  word." 

"You  have  been  so  good  to  me,"  faltered  Eli- 
nor, "so  truly  kind,  so  chivalrous.  I  don't  know 
how  to  thank  you!" 

She  held  out  her  hand.  The  stranger  took  it 
and  put  up  his  own  to  lift  his  hat  as  he  bowed  over 
it.  But  his  fingers  touched  the  satin  hood  of  his 
domino.  He  laughed. 

"We  are  masqueraders  both,"  he  said,  "and 
must  remain  such,  toward  each  other,  till  the  end 
of  time.  I  am  frankly  sorry  not  to  see  your  face, 
my  dear.  If  it  is  as  exquisite  as  your  voice,  it  is 
lovely  indeed.  This  is  good-by  forever,  for  I 
must  not  hear  your  name.  Give  the  man  your 
address  when  I  am  gone.  Farewell!"  He  pressed 
her  hand  and  went  swiftly  away. 

The  moon  had  risen.  As  Elinor  drove  slowly 
through  the  dark  and  deserted  end  of  the  town, 
and  on  into  the  country,  past  the  great  monastery 
upon  whose  tower  stood  the  angel  with  uplifted 
cross,  and  up  the  long  avenue  loomed  over  by 
the  tall  cypresses  of  the  Monk's  Walk,  she  thought 
of  the  night  of  her  arrival.  She  had  thought  then 
[291  ] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


that  she  had  experienced  almost  all  of  the  painful 
emotions  life  holds  in  store  for  the  unfortunate 
among  mortals — almost  all;  yet  there  had  been, 
and,  alas!  probably  still  were,  hateful  miseries 
that  she  had  not  even  dreamed  of.  She  sighed 
deeply. 

The  carnage  stopped  before  the  door  of  the 
hotel. 

"You  owe  me  nothing,"  said  the  driver.  "The 
gentleman  settled  with  me.  Yes,  Mademoiselle, 
even  the  pourboire — and  a  generous  one!  Bon- 
jo/r,  Mademoiselle!"  and  he  drove  away. 

"The  others  will  return  presently,"  Elinor  ex- 
plained to  the  sleepy  Hubert,  "I  was  too  fatigued 
to  remain.  Bonsotr,  Hubert!" 

To  Berthe  she  confided  the  story  of  being  lost; 
and  after,  so  she  said,  she  was  separated  from 
Monsieur  de  Folatre,  and  then  a  kind  stranger 
helped  her  and  sent  her  home.  Berthe  pretended 
to  believe  (Berthe's  manners  were  always  fine), 
and  she  promised  to  relate  Mademoiselle's  ad- 
venture to  Mademoiselle  Cryden.  But  when  Eli- 
nor had  left  her  and  was  safely  locked  into  her 
own  room  Berthe  gave  way  to  her  feelings: 

"That  devil!"  she  muttered  between  her  small 
white  teeth.  "I  could  kill  him  then — and  with 
this  hand!" 

[292] 


XXIV 

"...  So  is  my  spirit  as  flesh  with  sin, 
Filled  full,  eaten  out  and  in 
With  the  face  of  her,  the  eyes  of  her, 
The  lips,  the  little  chin,  the  stir 
Of  shadow  round  her  mouth"; 

IT  was  late,  indeed,  when  Ulaszlo  ran  across 
Matyas. 

When  de  Folatre  had  managed,  in  crossing  the 
overcrowded  thoroughfare,  to  give  Miss  Cryden 
and  his  cousin  the  slip  and  get  away  alone  with 
Elinor,  Ulaszlo  had  at  first  believed  that  the  two 
would  be  easily  overtaken.  When  he  failed  in 
this,  he  and  Miss  Cryden  returned  at  once  to  the 
Place,  thinking  to  find  the  couple  there.  Miss 
Cryden's  shallow  mind  and  heart  were  too  full  of 
her  companion  to  allow  her  to  become  alarmed 
about  Elinor.  She  carried  out  her  purpose  of  dan- 
cing with  him,  but  he  proved  himself  so  limp  a 
cavalier  that  her  pleasure  turned  to  pain.  He 
found  it  almost  impossible  to  be  sufficiently  civil 
to  her,  for  he  soon  became  anxious  about  the 
runaways. 

[293] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Let  us  return  to  the  carriage,"  he  said  abruptly, 
breaking  in  upon  a  description  that  Miss  Cryden 
was  giving  of  the  gayeties  of  a  past  carnival, 
"they  may  be  there."  And  without  more  words 
he  hurried  her  to  the  side  street  where  the  carriage 
was  awaiting  them. 

The  horses  stood  with  hanging  heads,  the 
coachman  drowsed  upon  his  box,  the  carriage  was 
empty. 

"Get  in,  please,"  Ulaszlo  commanded,  "and  I 
will  look  for  them." 

"  I  would  rather  go  with  you,"  Miss  Cryden  pro- 
tested. "I  can  walk  very  fast;  I  do  not  wish  to 
stay  here  alone." 

"You  will  be  quite  safe,"  Ulaszlo  assured  her 
in  his  coldest  tones,  "and  some  one  must  be  here 
in  case  they  come.  I  will  come  back  every  fifteen 
minutes  to  see  if  they  are  here — should  I  not  meet 
them." 

He  thrust  the  unwilling  lady  into  the  carriage 
and  hurried  away.  Three  times  he  returned,  to 
find  her  still  alone.  The  last  time  she  was  almost 
hysterical,  and  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  prevent 
her  from  following  him  as  he  again  started  on  his 
search. 

"Mademoiselle  Ladoon  may  return  alone,"  he 
said  sternly.  "She  must  find  you  here." 

[294] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Alone?"  Miss  Cryden  almost  shrieked.  "Do 
you  think  Monsieur  de  Folatre  has  been  mur- 
dered?" 

"God  knows  what  I  think!"  exclaimed  the  ex- 
cited young  man.  "He  certainly  deserves  to  be, 
for  behaving  like  this."  And  again  he  hastened 
from  her. 

An  hour  had  elapsed  since  he  had  begun  his 
quest,  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  hopelessness 
that  he  turned  again  toward  the  Place.  What 
had  Matyas  done,  what  was  he  doing  ?  All  sorts 
of  hateful  thoughts  and  suspicions  surged  through 
his  brain.  Matyas  was  not  reliable,  and  Matyas 
was  alone  with  Elinor.  Did  she  like  Matyas  more 
than  she  had  pretended  ?  But  whom  did  she  like, 
and  whom  dislike  ?  Her  manner  was  much  the 
same  toward  all;  sweet,  gracious,  kind.  Her 
image  rose  before  his  imagination;  the  slender 
graceful  figure,  the  lovely  face  framed  in  soft  dark 
hair,  the  great  wistful  blue  eyes,  and  the  strangely 
sad  smile. 

He  cursed  Matyas  under  his  breath,  then  stood 
aside  to  let  a  jovial  crowd  of  maskers  pass;  pier- 
rots  and  red  dominos,  hands  joined,  circling  gayly 
about  a  central  figure,  another  red  domino,  whom 
they  seemed  to  be  carrying  along  in  spite  of  him- 
self. They  halted  suddenly,  greeting  a  burly 

[295] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


masker  who  thrust  himself  in  among  them  as 
though  he  belonged  to  the  group. 

"  Bid  the  gentleman  good-night,  boys,"  he  cried 
in  a  good-natured  voice,  "and  thank  him  for  his 
company!  We  need  not  detain  him  longer." 

With  a  shout  of  laughter  the  circle  broke,  many 
hands  giving  the  central  figure  a  push  that  sent 
him  flying  from  their  midst.  Then,  with  a  cho- 
rused "Farewell — forever!"  they  turned  and 
surged  away  down  the  avenue,  not  even  glancing 
back  at  their  victim. 

The  freed  domino  took  off  his  mask  and  passed 
his  handkerchief  across  his  face. 

"Matyas!"  cried  Ulaszlo  starting  forward. 

"You  here!"  exclaimed  Matyas  in  tones  that 
betrayed  his  discomfiture.  "Where  is  Mademoi- 
selle Cryden  ?" 

"Where  is  Elinor  ?"  demanded  Ulaszlo  fiercely, 
grasping  his  cousin  by  the  arm.  "Where  is  Mad- 
emoiselle Ladoon  ?" 

"Ask  the  Englishman,"  said  de  Folatre  harshly. 
"  She  went  off  with  him,  and  left  me  to  the  mercy 
of  his  boon  companions." 

"  Delamere  ?  It's  not  possible,"  Ulaszlo  fal- 
tered. 

"Why  not?"  was  the  sharp  answer.  "Come, 
let's  be  off.  Where's  the  old  woman?" 

[296] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"In  the  carriage,"  said  Ulaszlo  slowly. 

Matyas  walked  quickly  away. 

"What  shall  we  tell  her?"    Ulaszlo  whispered. 

"The  truth,"  Matyas  replied  roughly;  and  in 
answer  to  Miss  Cryden's  hysterical  questions  he 
told  the  same  story. 

Miss  Ladoon,  he  said,  had  preferred  Mr.  Dela- 
mere's  escort  to  his — at  least  he  knew  the  man  was 
English  and  he  supposed  he  was  Delamere — but 
Miss  Ladoon  had  so  many  friends.  They  might  as 
well,  he  suggested,  return  to  the  hotel,  since  Miss 
Ladoon  was,  perhaps,  already  there,  or  if  not,  she 
might,  doubtless,  be  trusted  to  return  safely  later. 

Remembering  Elinor's  confidences  in  regard  to 
de  Folatre  Miss  Cryden  made  no  comment,  but 
ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  them  home.  Ac- 
cording to  her  nature  she  did  not  blame  herself  in 
any  way,  but  was  peevishly  angered  with  Elinor 
for  what  she  called  "making  things  uncomforta- 
ble." And  her  jealousy  of  the  girl  burned  high. 
Ulaszlo  had  been  too  carelessly  cold,  had  shown 
too  plainly  his  utter  indifference  toward  herself, 
and  his  eager  interest  in  Elinor.  What  the  poor 
woman  had  desired  and  planned  had  happened 
— he  cared  for  Elinor.  Now  that  the  moment  of 
vengeance  was  at  hand  her  own  heart  must  suffer 
as  intensely  as  his. 

[297] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Is  Mademoiselle  Ladoon  at  home  ?"  she  ques- 
tioned Hubert  sharply. 

When  he  answered  in  the  affirmative,  Ulaszlo 
demanded  how  she  had  come. 

"In  a  fiacre,  Monsieur,"  Hubert  replied. 

But  when  Ulaszlo  wished  to  know  more,  to 
learn  who  had  accompanied  her,  Hubert  had 
nothing  to  tell.  Mademoiselle  had  flashed  past 
him  up  the  stairs,  and  had  wished  him  good-night 
in  Mademoiselle's  own  gracious  manner.  But 
Mademoiselle  Ladoon  was  ever  amiable,  as  Mon- 
sieur was  aware,  of  an  amiability  extreme! 

"I  have  something  to  say  to  you,"  Matyas  said 
to  his  cousin  as  Miss  Cryden  disappeared.  "Come 
with  me  to  my  room." 

He  led  the  way  through  the  long  corridor  of 
Villa  Fenice,  and  up  the  gayly  painted  staircase, 
to  the  great  room  in  which  Elinor  had  passed  her 
first  night  at  Hotel  du  Jardin. 

Ulaszlo  shivered  as  he  entered.  "It  is  cold 
here,"  he  said.  "But  it  is  a  nice  room,  so  large." 

Matyas  lighted  a  fire  in  the  white  stove. 

"Why  do  you  do  that?"   Ulaszlo  inquired. 

"I  am  going  to  pack,"  was  the  answer.  "I 
shall  leave  the  hotel  at  dawn." 

Ulaszlo  crossed  the  room  quickly  to  his  cousin's 
side,  his  face  had  grown  very  white.  "What  have 

[298] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


you  done?"  he  demanded  in  a  tense  voice.  "I 
insist  upon  the  truth,  Matyas." 

"You  shall  have  it  then,"  said  de  Folatre,  eying 
him  strangely.  "  Later,  don't  forget  that  you  asked 
for  it.  Sit  down." 

He  pushed  an  arm-chair  toward  his  cousin  and 
both  sat  down  near  the  center-table,  on  which 
burned  two  candles.  De  Folatre  remained  silent 
for  a  moment,  his  forehead  lined  with  thought,  then 
rising  suddenly  he  stripped  off  his  silken  domino 
and,  rolling  it  into  a  ball,  flung  it  from  him  as 
though  he  hated  it. 

Ulaszlo  hardly  noticed  his  action,  he  was  staring 
at  the  frieze  of  the  wall  opposite  to  him. 

"A  monk's  head!"  he  said  in  an  undertone. 
"  I  saw  the  monk  to-night.  He  was  leaning  against 
the  balustrade  in  the  opening  of  the  Monk's  Walk. 
I  wonder  who  he  is  ?" 

"One  of  her  lovers,"  was  the  fierce  answer. 
"Their  name  is  legion.  Don't  marry  her,  Laszlo. 
That  is  what  I  want  to  say;  break  it  off  while 
you  can.  You  don't  understand  me  ?  Then  I'll 
speak  plainly."  And  he  called  Elinor  by  a  vile 
name. 

"Liar!"  cried  Ulaszlo  starting  to  his  feet. 
"Prove  it  or  I'll  kill  you — cousin  or  no  cousin." 

"Keep  cool,"  Matyas  remonstrated,  "don't  call 

[299] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


names  before  you're  sure  you  have  the  right.  Sit 
down,  listen.  She  had  an  assignation  with  the 
Englishman  to-night.  He  met  her,  with  his 
friends,  shortly  after  we  left  you.  She  feigned 
fright  and  ran  from  me — into  his  arms.  Then  the 
friends  surrounded  me  and  forced  me  away,  pre- 
tending it  was  a  carnival  jest.  But  I  saw  her 
enter  an  hotel  with  him.  -That  is  the  truth." 

Ulaszlo's  face  was  ghastly;  his  eyes  were 
burning,  his  lips  drawn.  "Swear  it!"  he  cried 
hoarsely. 

"I  swear!"  And  as  he  spoke  Matyas  brought 
his  fist  down  upon  the  table. 

The  action  seemed  to  arouse  the  echo  ever 
lurking  in  the  vaulted  ceiling;  a  curious  echo  this 
time,  sounding  so  strangely  like  a  laugh  that  the 
two  men  paused  involuntarily  to  listen. 

"The  candlesticks/'  said  Matyas,  as  though 
explaining  the  sound  to  himself.  "I  must  have 
jarred  them  when  I  struck  the  table." 

He  repeated  his  action  as  he  spoke,  as  if  to  con- 
vince himself.  But  silence  followed,  a  silence  that 
made  itself  felt. 

"We  are  not  alone !"  exclaimed  Ulaszlo.  "There 
is  some  one  in  the  room — I  feel  it." 

Matyas  caught  up  one  of  the  candles  and  made 
a  quick  search. 

[30°] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"No  one,"  he  said  in  relieved  tones,  setting  the 
candlestick  down  upon  the  table. 

"What  was  that?"  Ulaszlo  whispered.  "It 
sounded  like  a  sigh.  Are  you  sure  you  looked 
carefully?" 

"Don't  be  a  fool,"  said  de  Folatre  sharply. 
"This  infernal  room  is  full  of  noises.  It's  that 
cursed  echo  probably,  I  jarred  the  table  again. 
Laszlo,"  he  spoke  gently,  persuasively — "Laszlo, 
my  cousin,  I  have  a  very  real  affection  for  you. 
Promise  me  that  you  will  not  dishonor  your  name 
by  giving  it  to  that — "  and  again  he  insulted  Elinor. 

Ulaszlo  looked  at  him  keenly.  "You  are  in  love 
with  her  yourself,"  he  said  slowly,  "and  I  can't 
trust  your  word.  If  she  had  favored  you " 

"She  has,"  Matyas  interrupted,  turning  and 
walking  rapidly  to  the  window.  "I  did  not  want 
you  to  know  it,  but  since  you  force  me,  she  has." 

The  next  instant  Ulaszlo  had  flung  himself  upon 
him,  and  the  two  were  righting  like  wild  beasts. 
As  they  swayed  to  and  fro  in  their  mad  fury, 
panting,  struggling,  each  striving  for  supremacy, 
there  came  a  knock  upon  the  door.  At  first 
neither  heeded,  but  the  knock  was  repeated  so 
sharply  that  the  sound  forced  its  way  through  the 
oblivion  of  their  passion,  and  they  ceased  their 
struggle  as  if  by  one  accord  to  listen. 

[301  ] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"It  is  I,  Hubert,"  came  the  porter's  voice  from 
the  other  side  of  the  door.  "Two  telegrams  for 
Monsieur  de  Folatre.  They  had  been  forgotten — 
because  of  Monsieur  being  at  the  carnival " 

De  Folatre  strode  to  the  door  and  flung  it  wide. 
Hubert  stood  upon  the  threshold,  the  delayed  mes- 
sages in  his  hand. 

"I  regret  much,  Monsieur " 

"Curse  you  for  a  fool,"  Matyas  interrupted  an- 
grily, seizing  the  telegrams.  "Be  off  with  you!" 

He  went  to  the  table  and  read  the  messages 
hastily;  read  them  twice,  thrice,  as  if  he  could 
not  believe  the  tidings  that  they  contained.  Then 
he  lifted  his  haggard  eyes  and  looked  long  at 
Ulaszlo.  And  his  expression  was  that  of  a  gam- 
bler who  has  played  the  wrong  card,  and  so  lost 
all. 

"Sophie  is  dead,"  he  said  dully.  "I  should  be 
glad  to  be  left  alone." 

There  was  something  in  his  voice  that  made 
Ulaszlo  go  from  him  instantly,  without  a  word. 

All  night  long  the  half  maddened  man  paced  up 
and  down  the  shadowy  length  of  the  great  vaulted 
room.  Elinor  had  been  almost  within  his  grasp, 
he  said  to  himself  over  and  over,  and  through 
yielding  to  his  folly  of  passion  he  had  lost  her. 
He  could  have  married  her,  he  thought — if  only 

[3021 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


he  had  known!  He  had  learned  of  Sophie's  death 
two  hours  too  late.  But — again  he  struck  the 
table — Laszlo  should  never  have  Elinor,  never,  so 
help  him  God,  or  the  devil! 

And  again  the  echo  sighed,  sighed  eerily. 


[3°3] 


XXV 

"Did  passion  warp  my  heart  and  head 

To  madness  ?     And,  if  so, 
Can  madness  palliate  bloodshed  ? — 

It  may  be — I  shall  know 
When  God  shall  gather  up  the  dead 

From  where  the  four  winds  blow." 

ELINOR  cried  herself  to  sleep.  It  seemed  to 
the  unhappy  girl  that  there  must  be  some- 
thing wrong  about  her  to  make  people  treat  her 
so  strangely.  When  morning  came  she  could  not 
bring  herself  to  leave  her  room;  she  felt  ashamed, 
lowered,  for  she  could  not  persuade  herself  that 
she  was  wholly  innocent  of  blame. 

"I  must  have  done  something  wrong,  some- 
thing," she  said  over  and  over  to  herself,  "or  he 
would  not  have  dared  to  so  insult  me!" 

At  eleven  o'clock  Berthe  knocked  with  a  note, 
scribbled  in  pencil,  from  Miss  Cryden.  It  brought 
the  news  of  young  Madame  de  Folatre's  death. 

"So  awful,  killed  in  an  auto  smash — no  partic- 
ulars  as  yet.     And   the  two  telegrams  came  to- 
[3°4] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


gether,  the  one  preparing  him  for  the  shock,  and 
the  second  telling  of  her  death.  Too  terrible! 
He's  gone,  and,  just  fancy,  in  an  auto!  Thinks 
he  can  make  faster  time  that  way — or  catch  some 
train,  or  something,  I  don't  quite  know  what. 
Anyway,  he's  gone,  and  the  de  Noirauds  are  in 
a  fearful  state  of  excitement  about  her  money. 
The  English  relatives  didn't  approve  of  her  match 
it  seems,  and,  oh  well,  I  don't  understand  what's 
the  matter,  but  the  de  Noirauds  are  afraid  he  won't 
get  the  money,  since  there  are  no  children  to  in- 
herit. He's  spent  every  cent  of  his  own  fortune, 
every  cent,  my  dear,  and  he's  been  living  on  her! 
But  these  foreigners  are  too  outrageous,  and  I 
shall  give  the  Transylvanian  gypsy-vagrant  his 
conge  directly  after  luncheon,  and  you  had  better 
not  appear  until  dinner.  I  have  a  fearful  head- 
ache, so  pardon  this  wretched  scrawl. 

WINIFRED." 

Elinor  had  her  luncheon  brought  to  her  room, 
and  she  made  an  effort  to  eat.  But  the  painful 
excitement  of  the  past  night  had  made  her  almost 
ill,  she  had  no  appetite,  and  the  food  was  sent 
away  hardly  tasted.  She  longed  to  be  out  of 
doors;  and  she  paced  her  room  like  a  caged  creat- 
ure, feeling  that  the  end  had  come.  Winifred's 

[3°s] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


forlorn  plan  was  carried  out,  and  the  reason  for 
her  own  stay  with  her  cousin  over. 

She  longed  for  advice  from  Alicia,  and  she  had 
not  heard  from  Miss  Carme  for  nearly  two  weeks. 
This  was  another  of  her  worries.  Both  Alicia 
and  Mr.  Ferrars  had  heretofore  written  so  often, 
that  although  far  away  from  the  land  of  her  birth 
the  homesick  young  creature  had  not  felt  too  en- 
tirely alone.  She  rang  and  asked  if  the  mail  were 
in.  Yes,  but  nothing  for  Mademoiselle! 

What  could  be  the  matter  ?  Why  had  both 
Alicia  and  Mr.  Ferrars  ceased  writing  at  the  same 
time — was  Alicia  ill  ? 

Then  the  harassed  girl  called  a  halt  to  her  im- 
agination. Of  what  use  expecting  sorrow  before 
it  arrived  ?  Letters  might  come  to-morrow.  In 
the  meantime  let  her  write  to  Alicia  and  ask 
counsel,  for  what  to  do  now  she  did  not  know. 

Of  Ulaszlo's  disappointment  Elinor  thought 
little.  Since  he  did  not  love  her  enough  to  be 
willing  to  marry  her  poor,  she  rated  his  affection 
as  would  any  American  girl.  Without  experience 
of  the  curious  complexity  of  some  natures,  it  was 
impossible  for  Elinor  to  understand  that  a  man 
who  was  unwilling  to  work  in  order  to  gain  the 
woman  he  loved  could  be  really  in  love  with  her. 
Maynard  had  given  her  up,  so,  according  to  her 

[306] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


reasoning,  Maynard  had  never  really  loved  her. 
This  foreign  soupirant  wished  her  with,  not  with- 
out, her  (supposititious)  fortune,  hence,  his  affec- 
tion was  superficial  only — a  passing  fancy,  with- 
out depth;  no  real  passion. 

It  was  with  surprise  that  she  received  a  note 
from  Ulaszlo,  late  that  afternoon,  asking  her  to 
walk  with  him  in  the  garden.  It  was  but  a  few 
words,  saying  that  he  wished  to  say  good-by,  and 
that  he  had  Miss  Cryden's  permission.  Upon  the 
envelope  was  written: 

"Go  with  Monsieur.     I  sanction  the  interview. 

WINIFRED." 

Berthe  brought  the  note.  She  looked  wistfully 
at  Elinor,  but  said  nothing  save  that  it  would  soon 
be  dark,  and  Mademoiselle  must  wear  a  cloak  if 
she  went  into  the  garden.  Elinor  wound  the 
scarf  that  Alicia  had  given  her  over  her  head,  so 
that  it  fell  about  her  face,  screening  it.  Then 
throwing. a  cloak  around  her  she  slipped  down  the 
staircase  of  the  old  villa,  feeling  sure  that  Ulaszlo 
would  be  waiting  for  her  at  its  foot. 

As  she  passed  the  door  of  the  great  room  where 
she  had  spent  her  first  night  at  Villa  Fenice  she 
paused  an  instant,  thinking  of  its  echo,  of  the 

[307] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


evening  there  with  Mr.  Delamere,  and  her  un- 
pleasant interview  with  Matyas  de  Folatre.  The 
latter,  she  knew,  had  had  the  room  during  this 
last  visit  of  his  to  Hotel  du  Jardin.  How  had  its 
strange  atmosphere  affected  him,  she  wondered  ? 

The  door  stood  wide.  Yielding  to  a  sudden  im- 
pulse the  girl  peeped  in,  her  eyes  straying  about  the 
lofty  apartment.  Ah,  the  monk's  head,  the  cowled 
monk!  There  swept  through  her  mind  the  mem- 
ory of  the  monk  leaning  upon  the  balustrade  of 
the  Monk's  Walk,  on  the  previous  evening.  The 
herald  of  misfortune,  she  said  to  herself — and 
surely,  most  surely,  misfortune  had  come.  Was 
the  monk  satisfied  ?  Or  would  ill  fortune  dog  the 
footsteps  of  all  to  whom  he  had  appeared  ? 

She  turned,  and  ran  rapidly  on  down  the  stair- 
case. It  was  as  though  she  feared  some  one  were 
following  close;  a  dreaded  pursuer,  fleet,  relentless, 
unseen. 

Ulaszlo  was  pacing  up  and  down  the  terrace 
just  outside  the  glass  doors  leading  into  the  gar- 
den. He  showed  no  embarrassment  when  Elinor 
joined  him,  but  thanked  her  for  granting  his  re- 
quest as  though  the  invitation  to  walk  had  been 
an  ordinary  one,  and  the  coming  interview  signi- 
fied no  approaching  change.  His  manner  was 
very  subdued,  and  he  looked  ill.  His  pallor  was 

[308] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


noticeable,  the  more  so  because  of  the  heavy  black 
circles  under  his  eyes.  Elinor  saw  that  he  carried 
Monsieur  de  Folatre's  loaded  cane,  and  remem- 
bered that  it  behooved  her  to  allude  to  de  Folatre's 
loss.  This  she  did,  briefly  but  very  civilly. 

"Poor  Matyas,"  said  Ulaszlo,  "he  is,  indeed, 
unfortunate!  Sophie,  Madame  de  Folatre,  was  a 
very  lovely  woman.  She  was  modest,  unselfish, 
good.  I  am  sorry  that  she  is  dead.  But  we  must 
all  die  some  time.  Let  us  walk  down  the  grande 
allee  to  the  lower  terrace,  then  we  can  return  by 
the  Monk's  Walk." 

"It  is  already  twilight,"  said  Elinor,  shivering 
a  little.  "We  might  better  remain  in  the  garden, 
Monsieur.  It  will  be  light  longer  on  the  terrace 
near  the  great  palm." 

"You  are  cold  ?  No  ?  I  thought  you  shivered. 
We  will  walk  rapidly  for  a  moment,  that  will 
warm  you.  See,"  he  lifted  the  cane,  "Matyas 
left  me  this;  a  parting  gift.  He  laughed  at  my 
knife,  you  remember.  Matyas  is  very  clever,  far 
cleverer  than  I.  We  had  a  long  talk  together 
early  this  morning,  before  he  went  away.  I  carry 
his  cane  to  remind  me  of  what  he  said.  Here  we 
are  at  the  palm  tree.  We  can  walk  up  and  down 
here  for  a  time,  if  you  wish." 

At  one  end  of  this  terrace  is  an  arbor;   masses 

[309] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


of  vines  trained  above  a  long,  high-backed  bench 
of  stone.  At  the  other  end  three  magnificent  cy- 
presses tower  skyward,  uplifting  their  black  points 
high  above  those  of  their  comrades  that  guard  the 
Monk's  Walk  far  below.  From  the  terrace  one 
has  a  glorious  view  of  the  sea,  and  what  lies  be- 
tween its  gleaming  waters  and  Hotel  du  Jardin. 
But  at  this  twilight  hour  all  had  become  indistinct; 
all,  that  is,  save  the  angel,  outlined  in  black  against 
the  paleness  of  the  rapidly  dusking  sky. 

Wishing  to  make  the  interview  as  short  as  pos- 
sible Elinor  entered  the  arbor  and,  leaning  upon 
the  balustrade  that  edged  the  high  terrace,  gazed 
earnestly  toward  the  graceful  figure  of  the  angel, 
as  she  strove  to  find  words  with  which  to  begin 
their  farewells.  But  Ulaszlo  needed  no  assistance. 
He  spoke  first. 

"It  seems  that  a  change  has  arrived,  Mademoi- 
selle," he  began  quietly,  so  quietly  that  Elinor  felt 
intense  relief.  "Mademoiselle,  your  cousin  tells 
me  that  your  guardian  has  refused  his  consent, 
and  that  you  are  willing  that  he  should  decide  for 
you." 

He  waited  for  an  answer.  None  came.  Elinor 
could  not  force  herself  to  openly  uphold  this  un- 
truth, so  she  remained  silent.  Ulaszlo  sighed. 

"It  is  all  happening  so  differently  from  what  I 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


had  hoped,  expected  even,"  he  said.  "I  have 
been  very  stupid,  very  blind." 

The  last  words  were  spoken  so  sneeringly  that 
they  startled  Elinor.  She  glanced  quickly  into 
her  companion's  face,  but  it  wore  its  mask-like 
expression.  She  might  not  even  guess  what  he 
was  thinking. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  your  disappointment,"  she  said 
gently,  feeling  that  she  must  say  something,  al- 
though there  was  that  in  the  Transylvanian's 
manner  that  repelled  sympathy.  He  was  unlike 
himself,  the  charm  of  his  personality  gone.  It  was 
hard  for  Elinor  to  realize  that  this  dull-voiced,  un- 
interested man  was  the  sunshiny,  winning  Ulaszlo, 
whom  she  had  previously  found  so  attractive  a 
companion.  She  had  meant  to  say  more  but 
could  not;  it  seemed  to  her  that  he  had  no  wish 
that  she  should  speak. 

"It  is  damp  in  here,  and  you  are  cold,"  he  said 
presently.  "It  will  be  better  for  us  both  to  walk." 

He  led  the  way  from  the  arbor  and  they  walked 
the  length  of  the  terrace  several  times.  Elinor  de- 
termined to  say  good-by  and  return  to  the  house. 

"You  are  going  away  to-morrow,  Monsieur?'* 
she  asked. 

"No,  Mademoiselle,"  was  the  quiet  answer; 
"why  did  you  think  I  was  going?" 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"I  understood — from  your  note — "  Elinor  be- 
gan, then  said  decidedly,  unwilling  to  beat  about 
the  bush:  "You  said  that  you  wished  to  say 
good-by.  Since  you  are  to  remain  here,  why  is  it 
necessary  ?" 

"Ah,"  cried  Ulaszlo,  his  voice  thrilling  with 
some  sudden  emotion,  "you  do  not  understand! 
It  is  to  say  adieu  to  our  past  relationship.  We 
are  never  to  marry,  it  seems,  but  we  can  become 
closer  friends,  nest-ce  pas,  Mademoiselle  ?  That 
is  my  earnest  hope."  He  caught  her  hand  as  he 
spoke  and  pressed  it  hard.  His  grasp  was  almost 
painful.  "You  consent,  yes?" 

He  spoke  with  an  excited  eagerness  that  sur- 
prised the  girl.  She  felt  that  she  understood  him 
less  and  less.  And  his  power  over  her,  the  old 
"glamour,"  had  vanished.  She  caught  herself 
disliking  being  with  him;  yet  unwilling  to  pain 
him,  she  said,  in  answer  to  his  question: 

"Oh  yes,  I  hope  we  may  always  remain  friends, 
Monsieur." 

"And  you  will  now  prove  your  willingness  to 
be  kind?"  he  whispered  persuasively. 

"How?"  Elinor  inquired  gazing  at  him  won- 
deringly. 

"  How  ? "  he  echoed.  "  How,  Mademoiselle  ? " 
He  hesitated,  then  said:  "May  I  push  back  the 

[3I2J 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


scarf?  I  cannot  see  your  face  well.  Ah,  thank 
you!"  as  she  herself  threw  it  back.  "But  I  never 
understand  your  eyes!" 

"It  will  soon  be  too  dark  to  see  them,"  said  Eli- 
nor lightly.  "Come,  let  us  return  to  the  house, 
Monsieur." 

"They  are  as  the  eyes  of  an  angel,"  he  contin- 
ued, not  heeding,  "and  yet — "  He  laughed  a 
little,  and  the  laugh  grated  upon  Elinor,  she  knew 
not  why. 

Turning  from  him  she  would  have  gone  toward 
the  house,  but  he  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm  and 
stopped  her.  "You  promised,"  he  said. 

"Promised  what?"    Elinor  asked. 

"To  be  my  closer  friend." 

Elinor  sighed.  She  was  very  tired,  far  from 
well,  and  feeling  quite  unfit  to  cope  with  anything 
out  of  the  common.  Her  conscience,  always  a 
stern  judge,  bade  her  be  kind  to  one  whom  she 
had — however  unwillingly — striven  to  injure.  She 
remembered  her  sympathy  for  Winifred  as  a 
jilted  woman,  and  her  own  consent  to  play  an 
unworthy  part.  She  had,  she  felt,  done  wrong  at 
the  start.  Let  her,  at  least,  finish  worthily.  She 
held  out  her  hand. 

"I  will  always  be  your  friend,  Monsieur  de 
Noiraud,"  she  said  earnestly.  "And  if  I  have 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


ever  pained  you  in  any  way  I  beg  you  to  forgive 
me." 

His  dark  eyes  flashed.  Lifting  her  hand  to  his 
lips  he  kissed  it  fervently.  "I  thank  you — I  thank 
you,"  he  cried.  "And  you  will  grant  me  a  first 
favor;  you  will  now  walk  wi'li  me  to  the  Monk's 
Walk — and  so  home." 

Elinor  hesitated.  She  had  a  great  desire  to  be 
rid  of  him;  her  head  ached;  the  idea  of  prolong- 
ing the  walk  was  almost  hateful  to  her,  yet  she 
forced  herself  to  yield,  accepting  this  as  a  deserved 
punishment. 

"Very  well," she  said  wearily, "since  you  wish  it." 

"You  are  very  good  to  me," — he  drew  closer  to 
her  as  he  spoke — "but  then  you  are  good  to — 
everybody!" 

His  tone  was  smooth,  but  there  was  a  some- 
thing odd  in  this  very  smoothness  that  Elinor  would 
have  noticed  at  any  other  time.  But  fatigue  had 
robbed  her  of  her  usual  keenness;  she  had  one 
thought  only,  to  get  through  with  the  trying  in- 
terview as  soon  as  possible. 

They  walked  on  side  by  side,  descending  the 
many  flights  of  steps  that  lead  downward  to  the 
great  closed  gate  under  the  cypress  trees.  It  was 
almost  night  beneath  their  dense  shadows.  Eli- 
nor would  have  hastened  on  to  the  open  terrace 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


just  below,  but  Ulaszlo  stopped  her,  passing  his 
arm  about  her. 

"Let  me  kiss  you  now,"  he  whispered,  his  face 
close  to  hers,  "there  is  no  one  here  to  see!" 

Elinor  drew  back  from  him  sharply,  and  tried 
to  unclasp  his  arm.  But  although  he  held  her 
gently,  it  was  as  if  she  were  circled  by  a  ring  of 
iron;  she  could  not  free  herself. 

"You  promised,"  the  Transylvanian  urged. 
"You  promised  to  love  me  /oo,  Nellee!  Why  do 
you  push  me  away?" 

"I  don't  understand,  Monsieur,"  cried  Elinor 
indignantly.  "I  think  you  must  be  mad!  Let 
me  go  this  instant — this  instant,  do  you  hear?" 

"You  understand  well,"  was  the  angry  answer, 
"and  I,  too,  I  understand  now.  Your  favors  are 
for  the  Englishman,  and  for  my  cousin,  while  I, 
I  must  rest  content  with  a  smile!" 

"You  frighten  me  when  you  talk  so  strangely," 
said  Elinor,  striving  for  composure.  "Surely  you 
do  not  wish  to  terrify  me,  Monsieur  Laszlo,  you 
who  are  my  friend  ?"  And  again  she  vainly  tried 
to  unclasp  his  arm. 

But  the  man  who  held  her  was  beside  himself 
with  passion.  He  threw  off  his  calmness  as  though 
it  had  been  a  cloak,  and  the  fires  it  had  concealed 
blazed  out, 

[315] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"Listen,  pay  heed  to  what  I  say,  I  know  all.  I 
know  that  your  cousin  planned  that  I  should  love 
you.  Eh  bien,  I  do.  I  know  that  she  did  not  in- 
tend that  you  should  marry  me,  I  was  not  good 
enough  for  the  American  girl."  He  released  her 
waist  to  grasp  both  her  hands  and  hold  her  at 
arm's-length.  "Not  good  enough  because  of  my 
gypsy  blood!" 

He  laughed  in  a  snarling  fashion,  his  white 
teeth  gleamed.  He  seemed  to  Elinor  an  infuriated 
animal,  not  a  human  being.  Her  terror  had  in- 
creased, she  was  in  deadly  fear  of  him.  But  her 
coolness  had  returned,  the  nerved  coolness  that 
comes  to  natures  like  hers  in  the  hour  of  need. 
She  longed  for  the  coming  of  any  of  the  hotel 
guests,  but  she  knew  that  those  who  returned 
from  Ville-de-Plaisir  at  that  hour  usually  took  the 
tram  and  entered  from  a  road  above,  or  came  by 
carriage.  Her  one  effort  she  felt  must  be  to  try 
to  make  Ulaszlo  hear  reason.  But  he  did  not  give 
her  time  to  speak. 

"Not  good  enough  to  marry  the  American  heir- 
ess," he  continued,  pouring  out  his  words  in  a 
steady  flow  of  passion  that  showed  his  fierce 
pleasure  in  setting  his  hidden  feelings  free,  "I, 
Ulaszlo  de  Noiraud — and  because  of  my  gypsy 
blood !  Not  so,  not  so,  not  for  that  reason,  Madem- 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


oiselle!  It  is  that  Mademoiselle  Cryden  hates 
me  because  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  marry  her. 
As  she  spoke  this  afternoon  I  understood,  yes,  un- 
derstood well,  her  desire  to  avenge  herself.  But 
she  has  not  succeeded.  For  I  would  never  marry 
you,  Nellee,  never!  I  love  you,  love  you,  love 
you!" — he  caught  her  to  him,  straining  her  to  his 
heart — "and  you  shall  be  ma  bonne  amie,  but  not 
my  wife." 

"Coward!"  cried  Elinor,  almost  maddened  by 
his  words. 

Forgetting  her  fear  in  her  passionate  indigna- 
tion she  did  not  even  try  to  reason  with  him,  but 
struggled  for  her  freedom  like  a  wild  creature, 
while  she  screamed  desperately  for  help. 

Her  cry  rang  out  once,  twice,  thrice.  Ulaszlo 
laughed  triumphantly,  covering  her  face  with 
fierce  kisses;  kisses  that  scarred  her  very  soul, 
and  chilled  her  blood  with  dread. 

"My  Nellee,"  he  exulted,  "mine — at  last!" 

No  sound  of  approaching  footsteps,  but  the 
swift  coming  of  some  one,  a  blow,  and  a  heavy  fall, 
and  Elinor  staggered  back,  free. 

"Ah,"  she  cred  faintly,  "the  monk!" 

The  black  figure  pointed  toward  the  steps  lead- 
ing upward  and  waved  his  hand  as  though  urging 
her  to  hasten  home.  She  saw  that  he  wore  no 

[317] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


mask,  but  the  cowl  hung  heavily  about  his  face, 
concealing  it  completely. 

"I  am  so  grateful — so  more  than  grateful,"  she 
said  quickly,  unwilling  to  leave  without  a  word. 

The  monk  caught  her  hand  and  lifted  it  to  his 
lips.  Neither  he  nor  Elinor  saw  the  man  behind 
him  rise  with  the  light  agility  of  a  cat,  or  the 
loaded  cane  swing  high  in  air.  The  next  instant 
it  had  descended  with  deadly  force,  and  the  monk 
sank  down  upon  the  worn  old  flagstones  at  Eli- 
nor's feet. 

Forgetful  of  her  own  danger  Elinor  knelt  quick- 
ly, lifting  the  head  of  her  rescuer  upon  her  knees. 
The  cowl  fell  back  as  she  did  so,  disclosing  features 
that  she  knew  too  well. 

"Oh,  Maynard,  Maynard!"  she  cried  in  an- 
guish, her  heart  going  out  to  her  old  playfellow  in 
a  wave  of  affection.  "Look  up,  Maynard,  it  is 
I,  Elinor.  Ah,"  in  a  swift  aside  to  Laszlo,  "you 
have  killed  him,  he  is  dead!" 

Ulaszlo,  his  passion  worn  out,  stooped  and 
peered  closely  into  the  face  of  his  victim,  then 
turned  and  rushed  away  down  the  steps  leading 
to  the  lower  terrace,  and  to  the  town. 

There  was  peace  upon  the  face  of  the  dead 
man,  but  upon  Ulaszlo's  a  terrible  despair. 


XXVI 

"Vain  longing,  and  vain  yearning, 
There  now  is  no  returning"; 

FOR  a  time  Elinor  sat  waiting,  expecting  each 
moment  to  see  Ulaszlo  return,  bringing  the 
help  she  needed.  He  did  not  come.  She  chafed 
the  cold  hands  of  her  old  playmate,  lavishing  upon 
him  gentle  words  of  tenderness,  of  forgiveness,  be- 
seeching him  to  speak  to  her.  But  in  vain. 

The  girl  thought  with  anguish  of  the  wasted 
moments  that  she  had  unwittingly  spent  with 
Maynard.  If  only  she  had  known  that  it  was 
Maynard  who  had  freed  her  from  the  tomb  in  the 
garden;  that  it  was  Maynard  who  had  terminated 
her  unpleasant  interview  with  Matyas  de  Folatre 
on  the  night  of  the  masked  ball;  and  that  her 
last  long  waltz  had  been  with  Maynard; — if  only 
she  had  known !  How  gladly  would  she  have  told 
him  of  her  forgiveness,  how  gladly  renewed  the 
old  friendship !  For  they  might  have  always  re- 
mained friends,  since  he  must  have  had  a  very  real 
affection  for  her  to  the  end.  He  had  left  his  gay 
companions  just  to  see  his  old  sweetheart  again, 

[3*9] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"To  dance  but  one  measure."  As  the  line 
from  the  old  ballad  lilted  across  her  overexcited 
brain  she  strained  her  ears  for  the  footsteps  of  the 
"laggard,"  for  Ulaszlo,  who  now  failed  her. 
Then,  swiftly,  she  realized  the  horror  that  must 
be  overwhelming  the  Transylvanian.  She  knew 
instinctively  that  the  blow  dealt  had  not  been  with 
intent  to  kill.  The  young  man  had  struck  when 
crazed  with  passion,  with  the  unreason  of  a  furious 
child.  He  was  no  wilful  murderer. 

And  this  awful  tragedy  had  come  because  of 
the  plot  of  a  vain,  foolish  woman.  Winifred's 
vengeance  was  more  than  complete. 

It  seemed  to  Elinor  that  a  long  time  had  passed 
when  she  heard  a  clear  wThistle  in  the  distance,  a 
whistle  she  recognized,  Mr.  Delamere's.  She 
forced  herself  to  wait  until  he  came  close  to  the 
steps  before  she  called  to  him.  He  was  passing  on 
into  the  Monk's  Walk  when  he  heard  her  cry  for 
help  and  hastened  to  her. 

Quickly  she  told  him  what  had  happened  and 
who  poor  Maynard  was,  describing  him  as  an  old 
friend  who  had  amused  himself  with  this  mas- 
querade to  see  for  a  while  without  being  seen. 
Mr.  Delamere  thought  that  he  understood,  as  he 
listened  to  the  girl's  faltering  sentences. 

"Dare  you  wait  alone  here  till  I  can  get  assist- 

[32°] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


ance?"  he  asked  gently.  "No  one  but  the  au- 
thorities must  know  what  has  occurred.  And 
this  poor  fellow" — he  laid  a  kind  hand  upon  what 
had  been  Maynard — "must  be  got  quietly  away. 
Our  landlord  is  to  be  relied  upon  to  do  his  share— 
and  Miss  Cryden  will  help  you.  Courage,  dear 
child!" 

"And  Laszlo?" 

"He  will  not  come  back."  Mr.  Delamere  spoke 
very  gravely.  "He  ran  past  me  as  I  was  on  my 
way  home.  I  called  to  him  but  he  did  not  heed 
me.  I  saw  his  face  clearly  in  the  electric  light. 
He  will  not  return,  Elinor,  do  not  fear." 

As  the  artist  went  swiftly  to  the  hotel  on  his 
trying  errand  he  was  haunted  by  the  expression 
that  he  had  seen  upon  the  face  of  the  fugitive,  for 
it  was  that  of  a  lost  soul. 


XXVII 

IT  was  Miss  Cryden  who  notified  Maynard  Ber- 
tram's parents  of  their  loss  and  sent  their  dead 
home  to  them  across  the  sea.  Her  vengeance  had 
been  as  a  two-edged  sword,  cutting  both  ways. 
In  striving  to  destroy  Ulaszlo  de  Noiraud's  happi- 
ness she  had  ruined  his  life,  and  this  must  be  her 
lasting  misery.  She  was  unable  to  forgive  herself, 
and  she  hated  Elinor. 

As  but  the  few  immediately  concerned  knew  of 
the  young  American's  death,  it  and  its  cause  were 
easily  concealed  by  the  authorities  of  Ville-de- 
Plaisir — as  are  most  of  the  grim  happenings  in 
that  city  of  pleasure.  And  as  the  unhappy  Ulas- 
zlo had  left  the  country  on  the  night  of  the  tragedy 
he  was  allowed  to  escape  unsought  for,  his  rela- 
tives being  given  to  understand  that  France  was 
never  to  harbor  him  again.  The  de  Noirauds 
left  the  hotel  on  the  day  following,  going  so  quietly 
that  no  one  knew  of  their  flitting  until  many  hours 
after  their  departure. 

Elinor,  unnerved  and  completely  exhausted  by 
her  terrible  experience,  was  unable  to  leave  her  bed 

[3"] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


for  several  days.  Miss  Cryden  did  not  come  near 
her,  but  Berthe  was  allowed  to  devote  her  spare 
time  to  caring  for  the  unhappy  young  girl.  At  the 
end  of  the  week,  when  Elinor  was  convalescing, 
Miss  Cryden  sent  her  a  stiffly  worded  note  con- 
taining a  check. 

"I  enclose  a  sum  sufficient  to  pay  your  board 
here  for  two  weeks  and  your  journey  home,"  she 
wrote.  "  It  will  be  better  that  we  should  not  meet 
again,  so  I  will  now  bid  you  good-by.  I  am  leav- 
ing here  directly  after  luncheon  to-day.  I  beg 
that  you  will  not  attempt  to  see  me. 
"Very  truly  yours, 

"WINIFRED  CRYDEN." 

It  was  shortly  before  ten  o'clock  when  Berthe 
brought  the  note.  The  little  Frenchwoman's  eyes 
were  bright  with  indignation  as  she  watched  her 
favorite's  wan  cheeks  flush  under  the  sting  of  Miss 
Cryden's  insulting  dismissal. 

"If  Mademoiselle  Ladoon  will  but  let  me  re- 
main with  her,  yes,  and  cross  the  sea  with  her,"  the 
warm-hearted  femme  de  chambre  pleaded,  falling 
upon  her  knees  beside  Elinor's  bed  and  catching 
her  hand  to  kiss  it.  "I  have  money,  but  yes, 
money  in  plenty,  chere  Mademoiselle!  I  have  made 

[  323] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


the  economies,  and  I  need  no  wages.  Ah,  if 
Mademoiselle  will  but  consent!" 

Elinor,  while  deeply  touched  by  her  devotion, 
urged  her  to  stay  with  Miss  Cryden:  "You 
would  be  among  strangers  in  my  country,  dear 
Berthe,"  she  said  gently,  "for  I  could  not  keep 
you  with  me.  And  you  must  remember  that  you 
cannot  speak  our  language.  Remain  with  Miss 
Cryden,  Berthe,  she  is  not  unkind  to  you.  Now 
give  me  my  portfolio,  please,  and  I  will  write  a 
note  to  my  cousin." 

Silently  Berthe  obeyed,  while  the  big  tears  of 
disappointment  coursed  down  her  pretty  face. 
Then  she  went  to  the  window  to  stare  disconso- 
lately down  upon  the  broad,  gravelled  sweep  be- 
fore the  hotel,  as  she  waited.  But  she  was  young 
and  volatile,  and  the  sound  of  an  auto  honking 
in  the  near  distance  speedily  claimed  her  atten- 
tion. She  was  all  interest  when  a  big  touring-car 
appeared  between  the  trees  of  the  avenue  and 
forged  steadily  into  view,  stopping  at  the  door 
far  below. 

"New  arrivals,  Mademoiselle!"  she  began,  then 
remembering  that  Elinor  was  writing,  cried  par- 
don for  her  rudeness. 

She  stood  close  to  the  window  to  see  better;  an 
arrival  was  always  delightful.  Out  rushed  Hu- 
[324] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


bert,  out  rushed  mine  host.  The  gentleman  seated 
beside  the  chauffeur  alighted.  Berthe  approved 
of  his  appearance.  A  neat  maid  stepped  nimbly 
out;  then  a  graceful  woman,  heavily  veiled.  Now 
all  three  assisted  an  elderly,  much-bewrapped  lady, 
to  descend.  This  she  did  very  stiffly.  Berthe 
flattened  her  nose  against  the  glass,  but  the  entire 
party  vanished  from  sight  as  they  entered  the  hotel. 

Berthe  sighed.  She  loved  amusement,  and  this 
bit  was  over.  But  the  sharp  sound  of  tearing 
paper  now  caught  her  ear.  Ah!  Mademoiselle 
must  be  tearing  that  hateful  check!  She  would 
return  it  then;  it  was  as  she,  Berthe,  had  foreseen. 

There  came  a  tap  at  the  door,  a  very  gentle 
tap.  Berthe  flitted  across  the  room. 

"No  one  can  come  in,  Berthe,'*  Elinor  said 
hurriedly. 

"I  understand, Mademoiselle,"  the  little  French- 
woman answered,  nodding  her  head  wisely. 

She  opened  the  door  on  the  merest  crack  and 
peeped  through.  Hubert  stood  outside.  A  little 
way  behind  him  was  the  graceful  lady  who  had 
but  just  alighted  from  the  touring-car.  Her  veils 
had  been  thrown  aside  and  Berthe  saw  that  the 
lady  had  a  very  sweet  face.  But  where  had  she 
seen  it  before  ?  Ah,  the  photograph  always  upon 
Mademoiselle's  dressing-table! 

[325] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


In  an  instant  Berthe  was  out  in  the  hall,  the 
door  closed  noiselessly  behind  her.  "Bonte  du 
ciel,"  she  cried  beneath  her  breath,  "it  is  Madame 
Carme!" 

With  the  same  silent  swiftness  she  had  returned 
to  Elinor  before  Alicia  could  stop  her. 

"Mademoiselle,"  she  said,  speaking  quietly  al- 
though her  voice  shook  with  emotion,  "Madem- 
oiselle, an  angel  from  heaven  has  arrived — and 
Mademoiselle  is  no  longer  alone!'* 

"It  is  I,  Elinor  my  darling,"  said  Alicia  from  the 
doorway.  And  little  Berthe,  coming  out  into  the 
hall  again  closed  the  door  gently  behind  her,  this 
time  shutting  in  sunshine,  and  a  great  joy. 

Hubert,  albeit  rent  with  curiosity,  had  discreetly 
retired  to  the  top  of  the  staircase.  But  while  pre- 
pared for  an  excited  Berthe  his  imagination  fell 
far  short  of  the  reality.  For  the  little  maid  whirled 
up  to  him,  caught  his  fat  face  between  her  two 
hands,  and  kissed  him  upon  both  cheeks  before  he 
was  well  aware  of  her  coming.  Then,  whispering 
breathlessly  that  he  must  stand  guard  in  the  hall 
and  make  some  excuse  to  Mademoiselle  Cryden 
should  that  lady  appear  and  demand  her  where- 
abouts, she  fled  down  the  long  staircase  and  van- 
ished from  sight. 

"Juste  ciel,"   ejaculated   the   bewildered   man, 

[326] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


"she  is  mad,  the  little  one!"  And  he  began  to 
polish  the  nearest  door-knob  with  his  green  baize 
apron,  that  he  might  not  appear  as  an  idler  while 
he  waited  for  Berthe  and  her  news. 

Unfortunately  it  was  Miss  Cryden's  door-knob 
that  he  had  unwittingly,  in  his  excitement,  at- 
tacked. This  he  learned  when,  ten  minutes  later, 
it  was  jerked  from  his  hand  and  the  irate  ownef 
appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"Hubert!"  she  exclaimed.  "Ah,  you  are  after 
a  fee  I  suppose!  You  shall  have  it  when  I  go — 
and  not  before.  Do  you  understand  ?  Have  the 
goodness  to  leave  that  knob  alone.  The  rattling 
drives  me  crazy."  And  she  withdrew,  shutting 
the  door  smartly  behind  her. 

Hubert,  reverting  to  the  ways  of  his  youth,  made 
a  series  of  fearful  grimaces  at  the  closed  door,  snap- 
ping his  fingers  in  token  of  derision.  It  was  with 
difficulty  that  he  suppressed  a  cry  of  alarm  as  a 
hand  caught  his  arm  and  a  giggle  sounded  in  his 
ears.  Turning  sharply  he  discovered  Berthe. 

"Thou!"  he  exclaimed  in  relief.  "I  might  have 
known!" 

"Yes,  I,"  whispered  Berthe,  drawing  him  to  the 
end  of  the  hall,  "and  I  know  all,  all,  yes,  every- 
thing! Listen,  Hubert,  it  is  the  femme  de  cham- 
bre  of  Madame  Browne,  the  invalid  lady  with 
[327] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


whom  Madame  the  angel  lives,  who  has  told  me. 
She  is  French,  yes,  even  as  I " 

"Who  ?"  interrupted  the  porter,  his  beady  eyes 
protruding  in  his  eagerness  to  understand.  "The 
angel,  the  femme  de  chambre — I  cannot  com- 
prehend!" 

Berthe  paid  no  heed.  In  her  rapturous  ex- 
citement Hubert  was  to  her  but  a  sympathetic 
listener.  "I  saw  her  in  the  hall  just  below  (Ma- 
dame the  invalid  lady  is  to  have  the  rooms  there), 
and  she  told  me  all.  It  is  she  who  persuaded 
Madame  Browne  that  the  voyage  would  be  ex- 
cellent for  her  health.  Madame  Carme,  whom 
Lucie  (the  maid  of  Madame)  adores,  even  as 
thou  and  I,  Hubert,  adore  our  dear  Mademoiselle 
Ladoon — Madame  Carme,  as  I  said,  being  in  an 
anxiety  extreme " 

"Thou  hast  not  said,"  grumbled  Hubert,  rub- 
bing his  bald  pate  in  a  very  fever  of  bewilderment. 

"And  Monsieur  Ferrarres,"  Berthe  went  on 
volubly,  "he  is  magnificent.  Tall,  noble-looking, 
and  of  a  graciousness — ah!  (Of  a  truth,  his 
French  is  peculiar,  but  who  then  cares  for  lan- 
guage ?  It  is  the  heart  that  is  of  importance, 
nest-ce  pas,  Hubert  ?  And  Monsieur  Ferrarres, 
he  has  a  heart  of  gold.  Thou,  too,  Hubert!) 
Yes,  I  descended  to  the  fumoir,  and  he  was  there. 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Lucie,  she  tells  me  that  it  is  but  two  weeks  that 
he  can  remain,  being  the  greatest  of  lawyers  and 
much  needed  in  his  own  country.  But  Hubert" — 
she  began  to  dance  lightly  as  though  speech  were 
insufficient — "they  are  come  to  take  our  dear 
Mademoiselle  Ladoon  away  with  them — yes,  to 
Italy,  to  Rome.  And  /  believe" — advancing, 
she  laid  a  small  finger  upon  Hubert's  lips — "/  be- 
lieve that  he  is  the  one!" 

" The  one"  repeated  Hubert,  grinning  from  ear 
to  ear  and  striving  to  grasp  the  small  finger. 

"Ah,"  exclaimed  Berthe,  "Mademoiselle  Cry- 
den!" 

She  ran  hastily  to  her  mistress  who  had  just 
opened  the  door  of  her  salon.  Hubert  followed 
close,  all  ears. 

"Why  are  you  gossiping  here?"  Miss  Cryden 
demanded  shrilly.  "Did  you  give  Mademoiselle 
Ladoon  my  note  ?  Has  she  sent  an  answer?" 

"I  gave  the  note,  Mademoiselle,"  Berthe  an- 
swered suavely,  "and  I  left  Mademoiselle  Ladoon 
writing  an  answer.  Madame  Carme  will  doubtless 
send  it  to  Mademoiselle  when  it  is  finished." 

"Who?"  cried  Winifred  sharply.  "Who  did 
you  say  was  with  Mademoiselle  Ladoon  ?" 

"Madame  Carme,"  the  maid  replied  demurely, 
"Mademoiselle  Ladoon's  beloved  friend.  And 

[329] 


AN  OLD  MAID'S  VENGEANCE 


Monsieur,  the  guardian  of  Mademoiselle  Ladoon, 
is  here  also." 

"Mr.  Ferrars?"  said  Miss  Cryden,  as  if  speak- 
ing to  herself.  "Impossible!" 

"Mademoiselle  Cryden  will  rejoice  greatly," 
continued  the  irrepressible  Berthe,  "when  she 
learns  that  Mademoiselle  her  cousin  is  to  tour 
throughout  Italy  with  her  friends  in  a  very  beauti- 
ful and  enormous  automobile,  and,  later" — giv- 
ing rein  to  her  imagination — "she  is  to  spend  the 
summer  in  Europe,  or  to  return  to  her  own  country 
— Mademoiselle  Ladoon  has  but  to  choose!" 

Miss  Cryden  turned  without  a  word  and,  re- 
entering  her  salon,  closed  the  door. 

"She  is  enraged,"  whispered  Berthe,  "and  I 
am  glad!" 

"So  Mademoiselle  Ladoon  is  to  marry  a  com- 
patriot," said  Hubert  approvingly.  "It  is  as  I 
advised  on  the  morning  of  the  drive  to  Menton.  I 
observed  that  she  listened  with  attention.  Mad- 
emoiselle Ladoon  is  a  jeune  demoiselle  of  most  ex- 
cellent sense." 

Berthe  giggled.  "And  thou,  Hubert — thou  art 
adorable!" 


[330] 


BY    FRANCES    POWELL 

Old  Mr.  Davenant's 
Money 

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"An  exciting  story — full  of  dramatic  action 
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BY    FRANCES    POWELL 

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on   the   Hudson 

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